


A Walking Travesty

by chasingthebooty



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anorexia, Anorexic!Eren, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Bottom Eren Yeager, Cutting, Eating Disorders, Eventual Smut, Jean and Eren are roommates, Jean is like a major asshole, Levi also speaks French, Levi works at a french restaurant, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), because I'm so original
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 123,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3603030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingthebooty/pseuds/chasingthebooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standing in front of a mirror now, he can’t piece it together – why can’t he do it? Why can’t he lose weight? He starves himself for days on end, and yet, here he is, his white cotton sweater straining against his beer gut. He doesn't even drink beer. He doesn't drink anything but water.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I'm sorry if this is garbage. Levi doesn't even appear in this chapter, I promise he's in the next one though <3 If you guys actually like this piece of shit, I mean.

                He despises mirrors. He loathes the way that they remind him of who he is and what he’s been through, of the bullies who’d called him names, of the people he couldn’t fight because he’d been too weak. He loathes the way that mirrors seem to accentuate his worst features, the meaty rolls that still hang from his oversize gut, the distorted figure of his knees, caused to look like such only from their constant buckling under the whale creature forced upon them. Mirrors are definitely his worst enemy and his worst fear, coiled up into one, singular, nonliving sheet of reflective glass. Looking into a mirror, it’s as if he could see the future that awaits him – a diabetic, isolated hell in which all of his friends would finally realize that he’s worthless and move on. In which his neighbors and relatives would see that he’s a lost cause and leave him to die.

                Part of him hopes for that future. One where he could just rot away, his obese self probably stuck in some damn bathtub like the William Taft reincarnation he is. The faint pink scars on his thighs, whispering soft nothings into the cold night air, his only friends.

                Part of him wants to get better. To be happy. But of course, happiness only comes to thin people, and he was far from thin – skinny, it seems, is destined to be a mere dream for him, always. He tries and tries and can never achieve it.

                Standing in front of a mirror now, he can’t piece it together – why can’t he do it? Why can’t he lose weight? He starves himself for days on end, and yet, here he is, his white cotton sweater straining against his beer gut. He doesn’t even drink beer. He doesn’t drink anything but water.

                Eren Jaeger hasn’t eaten in three days. Four days ago, he had a bag of Skittles, but that was merely because Mikasa and Armin, his best friends since childhood, had taken him to go see some new Disney movie, and he didn’t want to set off their suspicions by being the only one not stuffing his face with repulsive, fattening foods.

                Mikasa and Armin had moved far away so many years ago in order to attend college, but they still had bothered to visit Eren over their spring break and take him out for a night, and for that he’s immensely grateful. Grateful that they haven't given up on him yet, no matter how much he doesn't deserve their friendship.

                Eren knows Mikasa and Armin fairly well. He knows that, even though the floor creaks under his excessive weight, they’d never knowingly let him skip a meal. They’re just like that – they care. A little bit too much. They want him to be happy, they don’t care whether he’s beautiful or ugly. He’s silently appreciative of the lack of physical interaction he now has between his best friends, deciding that it’s easier to just text them every now and then as a method of catching up. That way, he saves both them and himself from the embarrassment of the presence of his hanging gut and manboobs infiltrating the otherwise serene atmosphere that always accompanies them. He didn't mind going to see a movie with them too much, however, since their focus would be entirely on the screen and not on his gross body.

                Eren, he can’t stand the thought of being the selfish friend who takes up two seats at a time, the self-centered jerk who devours half of the triple layered red velvet cake. The fatass motherfucker who can’t get out of bed due to the sheer weight of himself holding him in place. The beached whale who has to roam around the grocery store in a motorized shopping cart because his legs can’t support him.

                That’s why he started dieting. Normally, Eren allows himself a small bite each day, maybe a cracker or a slice of deli meat. Not for the taste, no, if he dared to linger on the taste of a food, he’d end up feeling guiltier and fatter than ever. His belly would taunt him, the same belly that’s always been there, haunting him in the background his whole life.

                When he first started dieting, he’d made the mistake of savoring his food, which promptly led to binge eating, consuming far more than he’d ever dream possible in a mere afternoon. After every binge, he’d repeat a mantra over and over in his head, _never again_ , and, _I’ll start my diet again tomorrow._

               So now, after his experience with the hell that is binge eating, he doesn’t eat to make himself feel better, quite the opposite actually – every time he eats, he feels like absolute shit. Eren eats to stay alive, and that was it.

                He, of course, makes sure to log his daily intake of calories in a small notebook he keeps hidden under his pillow. He internally curses himself every time he does the math and finds out he’d exceeded his daily calorie limit of 100 calories.

                After the movie going, however, Eren had managed to find out from the Internet just how many calories had been in that pack of Skittles he ate. A whopping 765 calories. Just the thought of it made Eren’s stomach flip, his fat becoming painfully more obvious to him as thoughts of how much weight he’d gain surfaced to the forefront of his mind.

                His poor choice in movie snack, along with another lonely night of tears and bloodied wrists, allowed him to make a resolute decision for his next course of action the following day. He, obviously, had to burn off those calories somehow. And he figured that he could go the next whole week without any food whatsoever. Just him and four bottles of water per day, simply to keep the growling beast in his stomach hushed. He would also increase his exercise routine to nearly double what it already was.

                He’s determined to shed his extra pounds, even if it _does_ end up killing him.

                Eren doesn’t even mind the pain that comes with hunger. Sure, it’s excruciating, but no pain, no gain, right? Eren knows of ways to distract himself from his cravings, from watching television - utilizing the commercial breaks as chances to sneak in as much exercise as possible – to playing innocent pranks on his asshole of a roommate, Jean.

                Jean is very rarely even in their apartment. He’s always out with his sweet-as-candy boyfriend, Marco. Eren often finds himself wishing that Marco was his roommate instead of Jean, or that Jean would finally move out of their shitty living area and crash with Marco for the rest of his life. Marco has a nice place. Sure, he lives with his mother, but she’s just as sweet as Marco. It’s clear where he got his kindness from.

                Thinking about it, Eren isn’t even sure why Jean still lives with him. They don’t get along, and their apartment is the very definition of cheap. A crummy place that consists of two beds that are never made, a couch, a television with a broken speaker, a tiny ass kitchen, and an even smaller bathroom. Their closets were hardly big enough to even be called such.

                Eren likes to think that maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of Jean, deep, deep inside, that is considerate and is genuinely kind, and that’s why he doesn’t move out – he couldn’t just leave someone, even someone like Eren, in the dust like that so suddenly, knowing Eren doesn’t have many others whom he can turn to. Those thoughts, however, were always interrupted with a loud barrage of insults directed at Eren in retaliation for some insignificant crime he committed against Jean, like maybe not leaving the shower curtain open in the bathroom so that Jean could check for murderers behind it, or maybe like leaving leeches in Jean’s favorite pair of shoes.

                Jean always made it very clear that he didn’t like Eren. How Marco could put up with such an asshole was beyond him. Eren had made it a point to try to avoid Jean as much as possible, which in theory shouldn’t have been hard since Jean was hardly around anyways. But when Jean _was_ there, holy hell did he make his presence known.

                Eren and Jean’s conversations almost always end on a bitter note. Whether it be because Jean can’t keep his damn mouth shut, or because Eren allows himself to raise his voice a little too high, they wind up going to bed with storm clouds over their heads far too often.

                The scariest part, Eren realizes, isn’t that he is living with an overly zealous douchenugget, or even that said douchenugget isn’t in an insane asylum, where he belongs – it’s that Jean, cocky as he is, is pretty damn smart. Their arguments, for instance, Jean commonly has the upper hand. After living with Eren for a whole two years, he had caught on to what makes Eren’s skin crawl. He’d caught on to the words that make his breath stop, the thoughts that make his skin pale, and the realities that make his throat dry. Jean knows how to pack a punch to Eren’s weakest spots.

                Jean’s aware of what he’s doing, he has to be. He knows when he’s taking it too far, but whether he knows that’s the case before he says those things or not until after the speech had been uttered, Eren didn’t know. One particular thing Jean does, that Eren _knows_ Jean has to be doing with wicked intent, is his act of calling Eren nicknames.

                They aren’t cute nicknames, like “princess” or “sweetheart.” No, these names are laced with malice, like a snake wrapping its slimy body around the length of a tree branch. “Damn, porky,” Jean would greet Eren in the mornings, ruffling Eren’s unbrushed mane with a rough hand. “White bread again? Wow, fatty, watch out, those things are packed with calories,” he’d laugh, while shoving his third bowl of cereal down his throat. Like Jean knew anything about calories and nutrition.

                Eren isn’t sure if Jean truly means the things he says. He isn’t even sure if Jean knows how little Eren eats. He isn’t sure if Jean cares. Jean might just be trying to get a reaction out of him.

                Even if Jean _doesn’t_ mean the things he says, it still hurts. It still hurts, when Eren goes to lay in the bathtub in the evenings, mind plagued with thoughts of his worthlessness. It still hurts, when Eren has to buy nearly a whole new wardrobe -  “borrowing” Jean’s money - of long sleeved shirts because there was no way in hell he would let anybody see his pink arms, vertical scars contrasting tan skin.

                Eren’s cuts weren’t originally there because he was suicidal. He started cutting as a way to punish himself for being so damn weak. Whenever he dragged the silver blade across his flesh, it was accompanied by a chorus of, _you deserve this, fat cunt_ , and, _everybody else can lose weight, why are you the exception?_

                But now, he’s decided that if he ends up killing himself one day, oh well. He can’t say that he minds the idea of dying anymore.

                Eren can’t help but feel like he should be more grateful to not only Jean, but Armin too. Armin was the one who introduced Eren to Jean, the one who said that Jean had some money he could use to aid Eren in payment of his shitty apartment. And Jean, he needed to be thanked for not bailing on him after their first argument, and sticking with him long past their hundredth argument. He deserved to be thanked for helping pay the rent every month, and for helping Eren realize what a worthless sack of overweight shit he was.

                The door to their apartment opens without warning, breaking Eren from his thoughts, and he quickly turns away from the mirror that he was standing in front of, attempting to mask the fact that he had been staring at his hideous reflection. Like hell he’d let Jean get the satisfaction of making a snarky comment about his appearance. He moves to stand by his bed, leaving the bathroom, hands grabbing the edge of the blanket so that it looks like he’s actually attempting to make his bed, which in itself is incredibly out of character for him. But hey, anything to keep Jean from making a sassy remark about his beefy thighs, the same thighs that clapped for him when he did jumping jacks, as if begging him to keep exercising.

                As expected, Jean walks in. He looks at Eren, and for a moment, he pauses. Why, exactly, Eren can’t say. He doesn’t know. But then the usual Jean is back, a boisterous laugh filling the air.

                “Ahahaha! There you are, pork rinds!” A wide smile paints Jean’s features, and Eren tries to ignore the sting that accompanies his words. “I was looking for you! I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here, you never leave this damn apartment, but nevertheless, you’re leaving today.”

                Eren feels utterly confused. “Excuse me?”

                “Not permanently,” Jean sighs, realizing that Eren thinks he meant to imply that he was kicking him out, “Dumbass. What I meant was, a new French restaurant opened up down the street, and Marco told me I should drag your sorry ass down there so that the three of us could have a meal together.”

                “A restaurant?” Eren raises his eyebrows. Nobody told him they were building a restaurant nearby. Maybe he really should leave his room more often.

                “Did I st-st-stutter?” Jean smirks. Eren wants to repudiate it, but in truth he feels the corners of his lips pleading to be upturned as well. He denies them that privilege. 

                Eren doesn’t really want to go, he knows that once he enters that place, his nostrils will be assaulted by a million different heavenly smells, beckoning him to have just one bite, or two, or three. But it’s been so long since Eren’s had a nice outing with Marco, and Eren unexpectedly feels confident enough that he can stay away from even the most delectable of desserts today. He has to be strong, if he can’t be strong now and overcome his worst obstacles, how will he ever be able to do so?

                “Fine,” Eren gives in, “Let’s go.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi sets his sights on a certain, undervalued beauty.

                “Hanji,” Levi sighs, releasing his grip on the towel he was using the wipe the counters clean, “You’ve waited on the last five tables in a row.”

                “What can I say,” the spunky brunette says, spinning around in a stool across from Levi, “I love working. It gives me something to do.”

                “Yeah, well, how about giving a certain someone else something to do for once?”

                “Aw, Levi! You _do_ have something to do! You’re cleaning the counters, aren’t you?” Levi glares at her. She giggles. “Fine, Mr. Grumpy Pants, you get to take the next order, alright?”

                Levi’s glare doesn’t falter. He doesn’t particularly _want_ to go out and steal some poor bastard’s money in exchange for shitty food, but he really can’t just sit here and scrub counters all day long, no matter how much he likes cleanliness. He won’t stay sane, doing that.

                Levi tosses the soiled towel he was using into a laundry bin in the kitchen behind him, and then proceeds to make a slow trek from behind the counter to the front lines, leaving the sanctuary of that which was keeping him partially protected from so many wandering eyes.

                Levi doesn’t truly care what people think about him, he just doesn’t like to draw attention. Levi isn’t naïve. He knows he has a bad case of Asshole Resting Face. He knows from one too many times when an unsuspecting child got caught in his line of sight. Nothing sounds much worse than a high pitched wailing coming from a little shithead, attracting the curious gazes of everybody in the vicinity. Levi doesn’t like having to explain things to people who don’t matter to him. It’s repetitive, and quite frankly, a waste of his precious time.

                Levi stands awkwardly at the edge of the counter, glancing around the restaurant. He notices that people seem to actually be happy to be here. Whether that’s because of the “high quality food”, as Hanji might describe it, or because all of these people are surrounded by cronies whose company improves the experience, Levi doesn’t care to know. As long as he was making money, his customers can go about their merry way as they please.

                Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, but was really only about two minutes, Levi hears the quick melody of a bell chiming, indicating that someone has just entered the building.

                Not just _someone_ , _two_ someone’s have entered.

                One is tall and has an elongated face, reminding Levi immediately of a horse. His hair is the very definition of douchebag, dirty blond hair atop a dark undercut. Levi himself has an undercut, but he at least doesn’t dye his damn hair two tones to look unique.

                The other kid who’d just walked in, damn if he didn’t take Levi’s breath away. He’s the exact opposite of Horseface, shorter than him, but still very clearly a few inches taller than Levi. His eyes are the most stunning shade of green, visible from even where Levi stands, and Levi can swear he sees the boy’s eyes change colors as he trails behind Horseface. The kid has on a huge-ass white sweater that threatens to fall off one shoulder, and dark, black jeans that look as if they were meant to be skinny jeans, but instead they bunch up at the knees and ankles. Hell, this kid was gorgeous, even if he was a bit on the thin side – Levi can see every bone that pokes through his collar, he can see the way his cheeks are hollow, and he can see the rough edges of his bony hands. Damn it all to hell if he wasn’t going to prepare this kid the biggest sandwich he could possibly conjure.

                He prepares himself to go over and offer the two a table, only to see the pair take a seat with some tall, freckled guy with dark hair.

                Nevertheless, he grabs a couple of menus from a nearby cabinet and approaches the table.

                His eyes quickly run over the Petronas Towers duo, taking in their jovial faces, before resting his visions on the Paper Thin Beauty who’d caught his attention a moment ago. Can you say, love at first sight?

                “Hello, my name is Levi, and I’ll be your waiter,” he recites, handing the crew their menus. He neglects the give Freckles a menu, as he already seems to be munching on an indiscernible substance, something he likely ordered while waiting for the other two to arrive.

                Levi isn’t sure what to do now, as he watches the two open their menus and run their eyes through it. Levi’s never worked at a restaurant before, and all of his previous jobs have been behind the scenes. Does he leave and come back later to take their orders, or does he stand here and wait for them to decide on something? All recollections of ever having attended a restaurant before in his entire life escape his memory. And it certainly didn’t help that he had completely zoned out when Hanji was running him through the basics of serving a week ago.

                He doesn’t have time to make a decision on what to do, because almost as soon as he takes a step back to leave, Horseface shoots his head up from where it was buried in his menu just a moment ago. He says, “Give me one of those ahhh… payn dehpys, whatever that is,” he points a finger at a menu item.

                Levi glares at him. “Pain d’épice,” he corrects, “Anything to drink?”

                Horseface scowls right back at him, noticing Levi’s annoyed expression, though Levi can see past his pathetic mask to see that he’s trying too hard to seem chilling. “Mountain Dew,” he mutters after realizing that Levi has the upper hand in the glare department. He sinks back in his seat.

                “Mmm. And what might the tanned skin beauty decide on?” Levi purposefully lowers his already-deep voice to just above a whisper, audible to only the three at the table. He knows it makes the ladies swoon every time he does so, and he silently hopes it works on men too.

                The kid doesn’t even look up until Freckles nudges him in the side. “Wah? Me? I’m sorry, you were talking to me?” Good Lord, this kid is dense. Who the fuck else might Levi have been addressing?

                Levi chooses to not make a remark, but to nod his head instead, shooting another deadly glare at a sniggering Horseface. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to shove a menu down Horsefuck’s throat right now.

                “Umm,” the green-eyed wonder hesitates, the blush on his face fierce. Levi takes that as a victory. “Water,” he decides on.

                “That’s all?” Levi can’t suppress his shock. Who the hell comes to a new restaurant and just orders _water_?

                “Yes,” he responds.

                Levi keeps his gaze on the kid, as if he might be able to telepathically decipher exactly what is on the brat’s mind right now. Maybe he’s the only one besides Levi who can actually recognize what a garbage dump this restaurant really is, and that’s why he refuses to order an actual meal.

                Levi turns and trudges his way to the back room, where the shitty arrangement that Hanji called a “kitchen” is set up. It only very loosely fits the definition of said word, hardwood floors with burned-in stains, a rusty old sink and a fridge to match, and if you look closely enough, the walls probably ooze a liquefied form of Ebola. They’ll be fucked when the health department comes in for a visit.

                “Erwin,” Levi says, walking up behind the busy chef, “One pain d’épice. I’ll prepare the drinks.”

                Erwin nods, jotting down the order on a notepad. Levi hesitates before adding, “Also, do we have any leftover flans pâtissiers?”

                Erwin laughs, “Custard tarts, Levi. You don’t have to make it sound fancier than it truly is. If we do have any, they’d be in the fridge.”

                Levi, ignoring Erwin’s sentiment, whips around and digs through their crappy, crowded refrigerator, finding exactly what he wants in the best place possible: the very back, underneath mountains of opened baking soda boxes and containers of whipped cream. He manages to get dig out one of the tarts, but not without a struggle. He curses Erwin for having poor organizational skills.

                “Warm this up,” Levi thrusts the dish at Erwin, who’s grinning like an idiot for whatever reason.

                As Erwin prepares the dishes, Levi carefully pours the drinks into their appropriate cups.

                It’s not long before Levi is bustling out of the kitchen and making his way to deliver the food. He arrives at the table in time to hear Horseface rambling on about some “he-said-she-said” story, Freckles engrossed as if he’d never heard a more riveting tale. Green Eyes isn’t even looking at either of the two men, instead choosing to stare out of the window beside him, fingers interlocked with each other on top the table. Levi desperately wants to take a picture of the boy and frame it up on a wall, his own personal idea of a Mona Lisa.

                Horseface’s lips upturn into a huge grin when he sees Levi arrive, pausing in the midst of his story. His looks droop a bit as he sees Levi place a plate in front of him, realizing that he apparently ordered a huge loaf of what looks like fancy bread.

                Levi lays out the drinks in the center of the table and allows the two boys to collect their respective beverages. He then picks up the custard tart he’d been holding on a tray and sets it in front of Green Eyes.

                Green Eyes finally looks away from the window and sets his eyes on the tart. His expression, though, Levi could say is anything but joy. He actually looks a bit apprehensive, but Levi can’t understand why. _Be grateful, you little shit,_ he thinks, _I’m paying for this._

                “Uh, sir,” the boy speaks up, and Levi feels himself clinging to every word, bathing in the sound of his soft vocals, “I didn’t order this. Maybe you meant to give it to-“

                “It’s on the house,” Levi interrupts. “Just for you,” he winks.

                The boy’s face is on fire, and he abruptly starts rambling, “Wha-? No, no, you don’t have to, save it for the next table, I’m not really hungry, I’m sorry-“

                He lets out a yelp when Horseface very obviously sends a hard kick to his leg under the table.

                “If you don’t want it,” Horseface says, irritation evident in his tone, “I’ll split it with Marco.”

                Marco. That must be Freckles. Alright. Levi’s got one of their names. Not the name he wants, but at least it means that he’s one step closer to hearing the name that he _does_ want.

                The guy apparently named Marco takes a long sip from his cup before setting it down and saying, “It doesn’t look half bad. I wouldn’t mind trying it.”

                Levi stares at the two, aghast. This didn’t go at all like he planned. Who the actual fuck goes to a new restaurant and just drinks water? And then refuses a free dessert? Levi moves his eyes over to see that Green Eyes is looking up at him, face still red from before.

                It’s only now that Levi notices just how skinny Green Eyes really is. Sure, he looked thin from a distance, but up close and personal, he looks like he hasn’t eaten in months. His cheeks are unnaturally sunken; the bones of his skull seem to strain against his skin. His neck bones protrude against his tan casing, his collar bones pushing the surface. This kid looks like he’s missed more than a few meals in his day.

                Levi doesn’t get why he feels so concerned all of a sudden. Was it because he found this kid to be attractive, and he wants to be sure that he’s okay? Or was it just because he wants to get into this kid’s pants, and he wants to make sure he’s not trying to fuck a kid with a contagious illness? Levi usually doesn’t try to distress himself with other people’s lives; he has a very small pool of people who he truly cares about. So when Levi finds himself wanting to pull this brat in for a conversation, his brain is left disarrayed.

                “Here, Jean,” Green Eyes pushes the dessert towards Horseface, breaking eye contact with Levi. And to think, Levi went through all that trouble just to end up giving a free dessert to a donkey.

                The guy named Jean picks up his fork and delves into the two dishes as though he were digging for gold. Marco, for whatever ungodly reason, sits back and watches the show with a huge smile plastered across his face, highlighting his freckles. How he could watch such a disgusting display of disregard for manners, and watch it with such joy, Levi feels utterly confused.

                “Hey,” Marco laughs, “I thought we were going to split it!”

                “I only agreed to split the pie,” Jean says through a mouthful of food, “Never said I’d share my bread with you.”

                Levi wants to smack Horsefuck. How dare he take the name of French desserts in such vain?

                “Why are you still here?” Jean looks up at Levi after a moment, his face contorting into the most despicable of expressions. It looks like the epitome of jackass.

                Levi realizes now that he’s overstayed his welcome, standing in front of the table doing nothing but watching the interactions among the group of three.

                “Hmm,” Levi hums before inelegantly retreating back to Hanji, who is watching him with curious eyes.

                “What took so long?” she says, not even giving Levi a chance to relax.

                “None of your business,” he replies, “Don’t you have some tables you should go check on? We won’t get any tips if you never make the rounds around to keep an eye on everybody.”

                Hanji nearly falls out of her chair, with a gasp of, “Oh! You’re right!” She sprints off to the far side of the restaurant where an elderly couple sit, seemingly enjoying their shared slice of lemon cake.

                Levi tries to keep his eyes away, but he feels them being drawn to the table where the beauty who’d caught his eye before sits, hands wrapped around his glass of water as though it might grow wings and fly away. The boy’s eyes flutter around the room, and Levi notices that every time they catch sight of any sort of food, he averts his gaze unnaturally quickly, blinking repetitively, as if trying to rid his brain of the image. Levi doesn’t think too much of it, maybe he’s just sick. There _is_ a flu going around, if Levi’s not mistaken. If the kid _is_ ill, he’d better get the fuck out of this restaurant before it gets worse. Though Levi isn’t sure that he could just watch the boy leave without slipping him his phone number first.

                Levi’s still observing the boy when Erwin pokes his head out of the kitchen moments later to ask if there are any more orders he needs to be preparing. Levi mutters a quiet “no” to Erwin, not daring to look away from his prey. A muddled Erwin goes back into the kitchen without another word.

                Suddenly, Green Eyes meets Levi’s gaze, and Levi doesn’t look away. He maintains eye contact, lifting his hand and beckoning Green Eyes up to him.

                The boy’s face heats up again, and Levi only sees it because he’s looking for it, not that he’d ever tell anybody that.

                Green Eyes says something to Horseface and Freckles, who both seem to say something in return, something that Levi is too far away to hear. Green Eyes lightly smacks Horseface’s hand, which was resting on the table next to his almost-gone tart, before getting up and walking towards Levi. He walks with a slight wave in his hips, and damn if Levi didn’t feel that motion go straight to his dick. It almost appears as if Green Eyes is actually trying _not_ to sway his hips, and Levi finds himself silently pleading for him to strut that fine ass right onto his building erection.

                Green Eyes _does_ have a pretty fine rear-end for someone who doesn’t appear to have an ounce of muscle on his arms. He must do hella squats. That, or Levi’s hallucinating about this whole thing.

                Levi lets his eyes leave Green Eyes’ body to instead focus on his face, piercing gray eyes looking into indulgent emerald ones. Levi feels as though he could stare into those gorgeous eyes from now on for more eternities than there are stars in a night sky.

                Green Eyes takes a seat on the stool that Hanji once occupied, placing his hands in his lap, nothing more than a counter separating Levi from what was Aphrodite’s gift unto Earth.

                “Ahem,” Levi clears his throat, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt.

                “Why did you call me over here?” Green Eyes speaks up, eyebrows narrowing. He sounds slightly irritated.

                “I didn’t call you over,” Levi says simply.

                “Yes, you did! Don’t fucking lie to me,” he spits back. Levi now realizes that he doesn’t just _sound_ angry, he _is_ angry. But why?

                “No,” Levi drawls out the word, “I _motioned_ you over. There’s a difference.”

                The boy sighs, silently admitting defeat. That, or he’s in the midst of trying to come up with a retort.

                “I just want to know,” Levi changes the subject, getting straight to the point. “What’s your name?”

                “My name?” The kid furrows his eyebrows. “Why do you care about my name?”

                “Are you going to answer me or not?”

                “Not without a reason! For all I know, you could be a serial killer.”

                Levi raises his eyebrows a bit. At least this kid wasn’t careless.

                “If I were a serial killer,” Levi muses, “Then they wouldn’t have hired me to work here.”

                “Maybe they just haven’t figured it out yet,” Green Eyes retaliates.

                Levi chuckles. “Maybe they haven’t. Listen, kid. All I’m asking for is your first name. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s not much that I can do with just that information, so there’s no need to sharpen your knife.”

                The boy bites his lower lip, considering this. Levi approves of the pouty expression on his face, the way his lips shine under the dull restaurant light. He wants to run his thumb over the kid’s lips, maybe following it up with a swipe of his tongue.

                A moment passes before the boy finally speaks again. “My name is Eren,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope this chapter didn't make you guys want to gouge your eyes out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the worst thing you can do is leave someone alone to their thoughts.

                Eren lies down, back pressed flat to his mattress, knees bent and crossed over each other. He stares at the little napkin in his palm, eyes running over the words printed in black ink. He reads it over and over again, still unable to believe what just happened.

                The sun is setting outside, and Eren is back in his apartment. Jean had promised to be back before the moon was out, as he had gone to the park with Marco, but Eren knows he won’t be back anytime soon.

                Eren feels his heart skip a beat every time he peruses the note in his hands. It’s short, it’s simple, it’s nothing to fawn over. But to Eren, it means the world. It’s the first time anything like this has ever happened to him.

                After telling Levi his name at the restaurant so many hours ago, Levi had nodded and made a comment about it being a lovely label for a lovely boy – promptly causing Eren’s face to turn a deep crimson red. He’d also pulled out a napkin from a nearby dispenser and a pen from his back pocket, jotting down a quick message. He then proceeded to shove the note into Eren’s palm, with a word of “don’t read this until after you leave,” and disappeared behind a nearby door.

                Jean and Marco bombarded him with questions when he returned to their table, to which he said that Levi was just concerned about whether the men enjoyed their experience at the new eatery. It was bullshit, but Jean and Marco ate it up like Jean had eaten up Eren’s free dessert.

                The three left not too long after that, and Eren didn’t see the waiter again after their short encounter. They were instead served by a girl who found a little too much interest in their affairs.

                Once they had departed, he waited until Jean and Marco had turned and walked the opposite way towards the park they were going to before he pulled out the napkin Levi had written on. He started on his way towards his apartment as he read it.

                _If you want to, see me again – I’ll be outside the movie theater, seven blocks down from the restaurant we met at. Friday, 8:30. –Levi_

Eren’s eyes can’t seem to leave the paper, now, as he nervously shakes his legs up and down, lying on his back. He’d nearly rammed into several people on his way home, all because he couldn’t stop reading the short sentences printed on the napkin.

                He must’ve read it at least a hundred times, it definitely feels like it. He’s memorized the quick cursive of Levi’s handwriting, the way he loops his L’s and the way his writing gets ever-so-slightly smaller as the sentence goes on. He notices that the pen started the run out of ink halfway through, resulting in a few tears in the napkin, unable to be noticed by those who aren’t looking.

                He feels silly, he shouldn’t be caught up in a situation like this. It’s just that, Eren’s never been flirted with like this before. This _is_ flirting, isn’t it? Eren isn’t sure – on one hand, he feels like Levi was totally checking him out, but on the other, he feels like Levi must’ve been internally disgusted with him. He can’t possibly imagine someone finding his curves attractive, his grossly obese hips. But here he is, with an invitation for a late night outing.

                Perhaps Levi feels sorry for Eren, and he’s offered to take him out as a way to cheer him up, a purely platonic meeting. It only makes sense. Levi doesn’t know anything about Eren, he doesn’t know what his personality’s like. He only knows what he looks like, and so he must’ve figured that someone as disgustingly fat as Eren has few friends.

                He wouldn’t be entirely wrong, thinking that. Eren only has a handful of friends, and half of them are living hours away.

                Nonetheless, Eren can’t help but feel a little hopeful. What if Levi asked him out because he _did_ find him attractive? This could be revolutionary – it would mean that Eren’s dieting _is_ working, and that he _is_ losing weight. He hasn’t weighed himself in so long, afraid of the numbers that would pop up on the little screen.

                He sets the napkin down on his bedside table. It’s time to dust off the old scale and see where he’s at. He scurries towards the bathroom and reaches behind the toilet, grabbing the grimy sheet of plastic from where it’s been growing mold, and he wipes it down quickly with a nearby towel.

                He sets it on the floor, pushing onto it with his foot to make sure it still works. The number zero pops on the screen, indicating that it’s ready to be used.

                Eren sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes, mentally preparing himself. He isn’t sure what number he’s exactly hoping for, but he goes for it anyways. He gently steps onto the scale, heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He slowly looks down, and feels himself shatter. His worries were established all at once, with just the sight of the triple digits on the scale.

                101 pounds. He hasn’t even broken a hundred pounds yet, and just a moment ago he was actually feeling proud of himself. He feels tears well up behind his eyelids, threatening to escape.

                He shoves the scale back into its previous spot behind the toilet and traipses his weary body back to his bed. He’s worked so hard, he’s exercised so much, he’s endured so much constant pain in his stomach, but he’s still fat. He’s still gross, he’s still unattractive. Beautiful people don’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. Beautiful people don’t weigh themselves and see a number so high.

                Eren feels as though a large part of himself is defined by the number on the scale. The number, it represents all that he’s done to get there – all of the failures, all of the binges, all of the starving, and all of the hiding. His pant size, his shirt size, even his shoe size, they’re all numbers that define who he is. It’s all he can do to not include those numbers in his introductions, it’s all he can do to not inform people of those numbers, to allow them to make the decision to leave his fat fucking ass in the dust before it’s too late.

                He lies on his bed, curling into the fetal position. He feels a tear trail down the side of his face, bringing with it a couple of friends. Not even the note Levi had left him could be reconciliation for him, Eren is convinced now that the meaning behind his words had all been because Levi pitied him. Levi felt _sorry_ for him. Levi, just like everyone else, only bothered to talk to Eren because he was concerned – concerned, because Eren’s ugly and probably resembles a monster that little kids scream and run away from. Eren just wants to tell Levi that he doesn’t have to be concerned, that Eren can do fine on his own. He has been for so long now.

                Eren Jaeger hasn’t eaten in three days. He doesn’t intend to eat anything for another four.

                He feels himself wanting to add more days. He wants to lose weight, even if it means not eating for the next five weeks.

                He then has an idea. He pulls out his phone from where he’d hidden it under his pillow and, wiping some of the tears off of his cheeks, pulls up the Google app. His fingers tremble slightly as he types, emotions sending his nerves awry.

                _Motivation to not eat._

                He looks over the links that appear before clicking on a social media website. It sends him to a profile, one littered with black and white photos and depressing quotes.

                One particular upload stands out to him. It’s a gif, showing the word “EAT” in large, white letters splashed against a black background. It morphs the word so that the bottom line in the E is erased, equating the word “EAT” to mean “FAT.”

                It packs a punch to Eren’s gut. He saves the gif, bookmarks the blog, and puts his phone to sleep.

               He swallows the lump in his throat. The gif he just saved, it’s nothing if not the truth. Eating makes you fat, Eren knows that – he discovered that a long time ago.

               Eren refuses to become a laughing stock to society; he refuses to become another disposable fat person. He wants to be useful, and fat people aren’t useful. Everywhere he looks, there’s evidence of that. In the way that people point and stare, in the way that McDonalds is ridiculed for serving to the ones who take up a little more space than others.

                Reality hurts.

                He slides his phone back under his pillow and uses his blanket to remove the last of his tears off of his face. He’s compelled to grab his blade out from its home under his mattress, next to his calorie-tracking notebook. He wants to slice open his wrists, punishing himself over and over for being such a _failure –_ blood flowing down his arms, pain echoing from every single part of his body.

                But he feels weak, his legs feel numb. He tries to move, but his arms fail to comply, as if rebelling against his pleas. His eyes flitter up – the time on his alarm clock reads “8:48.”

                Minutes pass that feel like hours before Eren works up the energy to grab the napkin Levi gave him and put it under his pillow to accompany his phone.

                He gets up and changes quickly, throwing his white sweater and black jeans to the side, an addition to his pile of unwashed clothing accumulating in the corner of the room. He replaces his clothing with a long-sleeved dark blue nightshirt and a pair of matching shorts. He doesn’t like wearing shorts, but he’s usually pretty good about keeping his legs hidden under his blanket as he naps. It’s only a problem for the mornings that he wakes up after Jean does, but Jean sleeps like a bear, so he rarely gets sight of Eren’s repulsive legs.

                Eren throws his socks to the side, and goes to flip the light switch off. He then hops into bed, pulling his blanket over his body and curling up against it. A hand wanders down and rubs his chest and stomach, pulling at the loose meat on them. He feels so horrible.

                He runs his hands over his thighs, squishing them and feeling their cuts. He deserves every single one of those, and more. He touches himself, fingers dancing across his thick calves and brushing against his lumpy sides. It’s not hard to see why people’s eyes linger on him longer than they should – he’s a fucking monstrosity. At the grocery store, he’s seen the way the employees look at him, their sights trained on scrutinizing every inch of his body. At the gym, he’s noticed how the other members glance his way longer than they should. He’s so incredibly hideous, he’s so abhorrent; it’s a wonder that he hasn’t been shot yet, mistaken as Sasquatch. It’s a wonder he’s not plastered all over the Internet, being made fun of for his horrendous appearance. Would that be his fate one day? A useless Internet meme that people comment insensitive things on, disregarding the joke and instead focusing their attention on the beast displayed between the words? Eren doesn’t want to be a gag. He wants to have a purpose in life, and he would prefer that said purpose was not encouraging the idea of fat-shaming, with his unattractive features.

                His eyes sting, but no tears come. He’s already used them all up, though he hadn’t noticed just how much he’d been crying.

                He struggles to fall asleep, but sleep does come eventually – Eren’s hand finally settles on his stomach, after trailing every inch of his body in search of more flaws, and finding plenty. His other hand makes use of itself by pressing the blanket close to his face, shielding his face from the outside world. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any sort of feedback is greatly appreciated! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco, basically.

                “I’m worried, Jean,” Marco says, sprawled across his couch. They’re in his living room, a large space with a faux black leather couch pressed against the far wall. In front of them stands a flat-screen television, on which they are playing Mario Kart. To their left, an open kitchen is placed, a selection of snacks scattered around the counter separating the two rooms.

                Marco’s mother had left to run to the grocery store. She’s quirky – she only ever goes shopping late at night, to, as she would say, “beat the crowd,” though Marco’s told her countless times that that’s not exactly what that statement means.

                “Worried?” Jean laughs, “About what?”

                Marco jolts his arms to the left, making his kart on the television take a sharp turn. “You know what I’m talking about! Don’t act so indifferent about this.”

                Jean does a similar action to Marco, his kart being two places behind Marco’s. Eighth place. “No, Marco, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. Is this still about not having salsa dip? I really don’t care whether-“

                “No! Are you stupid? I’m talking about Eren!” Marco presses a button on his remote, sending a red turtle shell to the racer in front of him. He passes them, his character making a cheering sound as he does so.

                “Eren?” Jean scoffs, “Why Eren? We weren’t even talking about him.”

                “When we saw him today, he looked so…” Marco pauses, biting his bottom lip.

                “Stupid? He always looks like that,” Jean lets out a hearty laugh.

                “Jean!” Marco jabs him with his elbow. “No, he looked different. Almost like he’s lost a ton of weight since I last saw him.”

                “When’d you last see him?” Jean inquires. He narrows his eyes when he sees that Marco’s passed the finish line in fifth place, Jean still stuck in eighth.

                Marco hums. “I think it’s been a few months. Still, I don’t remember him being so small.”

                “I think you’re overanalyzing this.”

                “You don’t think anything’s wrong?”

                “No, if there was, I would’ve noticed. I live with the guy, Marco,” Jean finally passes the finish line. He clicks the button to move on to the next race.

                “I don’t know,” Marco prepares himself, leaning forward in his seat, hands pressed tight to his controller. “You’re not the most observant person.”

                Jean ponders this. He hasn’t noticed Eren thinning. In fact, he’d go so far as to say that Eren hasn’t changed at all in the past few months. The only real difference that Jean can think of is that Eren has started wearing baggier shirts, but he just assumed it was because winter had recently come and gone.

                Some things piece together. Jean has stayed up countless nights, unable to fall asleep due to Eren’s incessant stomach, growling and whining like a lost puppy as the boy who bears it naps, unfazed. This has, unfortunately, resulted in Jean sleeping until the later hours of the mornings.

                Jean has also noticed that Eren sucks in his stomach with a quick breath every time they confront each other, he spreads his legs just far enough to create a thigh gap. He’s noticed that Eren takes a great offense to being called fat; Jean’s nearly reduced him to tears multiple times with his words. But Jean’s never once thought that perhaps his insults mean more to Eren than they mean to him.

                On the flip side, some things don’t piece together so well. Eren doesn’t seem like the type of guy who cares about body image. When Jean first met Eren, he was sporting a tank top and the tightest pair of leggings Jean’s ever seen on a man.

                Jean’s seen Eren, just about every morning, lazing around the kitchen, munching on a plain piece of toast or sipping on a small glass of milk. Eren’s also been seen wearing some of Jean’s clothing before, though he’d always go out of his way to make a comment about how much it reeks of Jean’s unfavorable cologne, to which Jean would promptly smash his face into the wall with a pillow, telling Eren that his cologne is one of the top brands and that it drives people crazy.

                Jean trusts Marco, though, and Marco wouldn’t lie to him. _Has_ Eren lost weight?

                “If you want – ah, fuck,” Jean says, getting hit with his own green shell, one that he had sent out mere seconds ago onscreen, “I can ask him about it.”

                “Would you?” Marco replies, hopeful. “I’m just concerned. He’s our friend.”

                “ _Our_ friend?” Jean scoffs, “More like _your_ friend.”

                “Don’t act like you don’t like him.”

                “I don’t.”

                “Liar.”

                “Watch out, you’re about to get hit with a blue shell,” Jean smirks, sending out the item. He’s resting comfortably in ninth place, Marco leading the way in first.

                “You are positively evil- ah, _screw_ you!” Marco falls to fifth place.

                They continue to play their game, until Jean finally quits after continually getting last place every time. Marco calls him a sore loser, and Jean smacks him with a pillow.

                Marco laughs. “Go pick out a different game to play, then,” he says, switching positions, putting his bare feet on the coffee table in front of them.

                Jean gets up and kneels in front of the TV stand, opening the drawer and digging through the selection.

                Marco scratches the back of his neck, thinking. “Why do you think Eren wouldn’t eat today, when we all went out together?”

                “Are you still upset about Eren? I told you, I’ll talk to him about it later.”

                “I know, but Jean! You’re avoiding the question. This could be really serious!”

                “If it is, I’ll find out later. That’s all there is to it. How about we play - no, that’s single player. Shit, you’ve got an fuckload of single player games here.” Jean rubs his temple, thumbing through the game packages.

                “Jean,” Marco sighs. Sometimes his boyfriend is a real pain in the ass.

                “Oh!” Jean exclaims, “Let’s play Hyrule Warriors! I’ve never played it before.”

                Marco grunts in agreement, getting his controller ready.

                The blond boy returns, taking his seat next to Marco. He starts up the game.

                “You’re going down, Freckles.”

                “This is co-op, dummy.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow, 100 kudos? I love you guys so much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's kinda got Jean whipped.

                Eren wakes up, squirming onto his back and raising an arm to shield his eyes from the death rays that the sun’s letting off into the room. He doesn’t like mornings, he never has, but for whatever reason, his body has decided that it’s best to wake up early, even when it comes to weekends.

                He groans, turning to look at his alarm clock. 9:24 AM. Thursday.

                “Finally up, huh,” a voice nearby says.

                Eren turns his head to see Jean on his own bed, phone in hand and fully dressed. He lets out another groan, this time more out of irritation than drowsiness.

                “Don’t be that way,” Jean drawls out, smirking. Eren glares at him.

                “What are you doing here?” Eren shoots at him.

                “I _do_ live here, you know,” the blond replies, “I think that gives me permission to be here.”

                “You’re not going anywhere today?”

                “I didn’t say that.”

                Eren sighs. Great. He wanted to have a nice Thursday, maybe one where he could spiffy up his job résumé and send it in to a few places.

Eren isn’t particularly interested in getting a job, he quite likes being able to lounge around – but until he can get someone who’s fine with having a househusband, he needs to find work somewhere. He can’t live with Jean forever, and he especially can’t envision himself staying in this hellhole of an apartment for the rest of his life.

                 But of course, with Jean in his room, breathing down his neck for who knows how long, the most that Eren will be able to get done is reinforce the idea that their relationship with each other is shitty.

                Eren sits up. He notices Jean looking at him, gawking, so he grabs a pillow and thrusts it at his face. He misses and instead knocks over Jean’s bedside lamp.

                “Nice aim,” Jean laughs.

                “Fuck you,” Eren mutters, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He slowly gets out of bed, suddenly not even caring that he was revealing his tree stump legs to Jean’s poor eyes. His shorts go down to his knees, but just the sight of his calves must be repugnant.

                He gets up and heads towards the kitchen for a bottle of water. The pain in his stomach hits him like a bullet, coming back at full force, as it does every morning. He feels his stomach preparing to growl, a building pressure in his lower belly, and he coughs rather loudly to mask the ear shattering roar it unleashes.

                He grabs a bottle from the fridge and downs it quickly, cold water soothing him.

                “Eren,” Jean pipes up. Eren turns away from the fridge to look at him and sees that Jean’s looking at him with… constipation?

                Jean’s eyebrows are furrowed; his eyes narrow as they skim Eren’s appearance, taking in the sight of all that he had to offer, from his untamed bedhead to his tan legs. He feels like he should cover up, hiding himself from Jean’s very obviously judging eyes.

                “Yes?” Eren yawns, wanting to quickly appease Jean so that he may go get dressed.

                “I need to ask you something,” the taller of the two says slowly, carefully choosing his words. “I’m not exactly sure how… how I should…”

                “Just ask.”

                “Okay, but know that it was actually _Marco_ who told me to ask you this.”

                Eren nods. He can’t be mad at Marco, no matter what he does.

                “He- well- I- maybe- it’s just that-“

                “Just say it.” Eren watches as Jean’s face contorts into a million different strangled expressions.

                A few minutes pass before Jean gets out of his bed and mutters, “Never mind.”

                Eren rolls his eyes and shrugs it off. Jean could be a little quirky sometimes, and not necessarily in a good way.

                He can’t help but wonder though, what is it that he wants to know? Or that, more specifically, _Marco_ wants to know? And why is Jean so nervous to say it? Jean’s never nervous. He’s pushy, he’s rough. He’s never shown Eren any sort of weakness.

                Eren finishes drinking his water and throws the empty bottle into a trashcan. He then reaches into the fridge and grabs another one, nearly having a heart attack when he turns around and sees Jean looking down at him. How the hell did he move so fast?

                “Are you alright?” It’s all that he says.

                Eren’s tangled. He doesn’t understand what Jean means. Is he asking if Eren’s okay, because Jean nearly gave him a stroke just now, or is he asking if Eren’s okay in general? He feels like he’s overthinking this, but it really sounds like Jean is implying the latter option.

                On one hand, Eren’s perfectly fine. He has fair, albeit not preferable, living conditions, he has resources available at the snap of his fingers, he has the means to get by. On the other hand, Eren’s going through a constant cycle of torture, in which he’s incapable of achieving the body he and society both admire, no matter how many meals he skips.

                He goes for the easier answer. “I’m fine.” It’s not like he would honestly tell Jean what is wrong with him, anyways – Jean doesn’t need to know.

                “Good. Good! Good, good, good,” Jean repeats, mantra continuing as he whips his head to look down at his phone intently, fingers rapidly typing something.

                Eren sidesteps him, strutting over to his bed and sitting back, shoving his legs under the blanket. Jean’s acting weird, that much is obvious. Jean shouldn’t care if Eren’s alright, he’s never cared before. He’s never so much as offered a hint of concern towards Eren’s well-being, in the whole two years they've lived together. Unless Eren’s just never noticed it, but Jean’s not exactly a subtle person.

                “Listen,” Jean looks up from where he’d previously had his eyes stuck to his phone, “I’m going out with Marco this evening.”

                Eren nods his head slightly, studying his fingernails.

                “Marco wants to know if you’d like to come,” Jean finishes, leaning back against the fridge.

                Eren bites his lower lip. He _does_ want to go, he loves hanging out with Marco. Their meeting yesterday had been fun. Jean was there, buzzing around like a damn fly, but all good things come with a price to pay.

                However, after what Jean just asked, Eren’s not sure that he _should_ go. Marco’s incredibly sharp-eyed – if he hasn’t caught on to Eren’s fasting, he would quickly, and Eren isn’t too fond of the idea of having someone harrying him to eat. Marco could easily convince Jean that Eren needs help, and Jean would be the one to drag him to a therapist on a leash just to placate his boyfriend.

                “No,” Eren replies, “I have things to do today.”

                “Like what?” Jean inquires.

                Eren releases his lower lip, the taste of blood tainting his tongue. Blood doesn’t have calories, does it?

                “I- I have a- uhhh-“ Eren tries to fill the air as he quickly comes up with something believable.

                Jean removes himself from the fridge and walks towards Eren, saying, “Exactly. You don’t have anything to do today.”

                “I do!” Eren retorts, “I have a résumé-“

                “Fuck that, we know you’re not going to get a job any time soon anyways.”

                Eren furrows his eyebrows, crinkling his nose. “Hey, fuck _you_. You don’t know that.”

                Jean reaches the end of Eren’s bed and roughly grabs his arm. “Come on, you need to get ready.”

                “I thought you weren’t leaving until later.”

                “I lied.”

                “What kind of a fucking lie is that?”

                “Just get dressed,” Jean shoves Eren out from under his blanket onto the floor.

                Eren kicks him swiftly, landing a hit on the sharp bone of Jean’s ankle. He cries out in pain, Jean above him chuckling while skittering back a few steps.

                “You know, Eren,” Jean muses, “You might be able to hurt me if you actually spent more time at the gym.”

                “You are an asshole,” Eren grits his teeth.

                He gets up and moves past Jean, making sure to bump into his shoulder as he passes. Jean chuckles, moving over to finally pick up his lamp from where Eren had hit it with a pillow earlier.

                Eren opens his closet and grabs the first thing he sees, promptly moving to the bathroom to change.

                He shuts the door, and turns away from the mirror, the mirror that’s carefully assessing his every flaw. He doesn’t want to start off his day with more self-loathing than was necessary, although he certainly deserves it.

                He tosses his night clothes to the corner of the bathroom, and dresses himself in plain, white pants, noticing too late that he’d grabbed a fucking _tank top_ out of his closet instead of a preferred long sleeved shirt.

                He digs through the mountain of clothing decorating the bathroom tiles, fingers running through an array of clothing that Eren hasn’t seen in what must be decades, and manages to find a blue jacket. It’s Jean’s, it smells just like him, but Eren hasn’t seen him wear it in so long that Jean likely doesn’t even recognize it.

                Eren pulls the tank top on, following it up with the jacket. It covers his arms, sleeves extending far past his fingers. The shoulders hang low, so Eren grabs the front and zips the jacket up. It fixes the width situation, but it doesn’t help the length.

                Eren feels a bit bemused. Jean’s jacket actually fits him, and in fact, Eren’s almost convinced that the jacket is actually _bigger_ than he is. Eren’s huge though; there is no way in hell that Jean’s jacket could fit him. Maybe he’s mistaken, and it _is_ Eren’s jacket after all. It still doesn’t explain why it fits so loosely.

                He turns around and looks in the mirror, and all of his hope falls away. The jacket isn’t loose on him. It’s tight as fuck, stretching across his belly, fabrics desperately grasping each other to stay knit. He’s amazed that he hasn’t ripped the jacket in half yet.

                He skims the bathroom floor, but can’t find anything else he can wear. All of the other clothing around him are either short sleeved, visibly filthy, or wet from who-knows-what. And he can’t leave in the nightshirt he had to go get a new one out of his closet, Jean is likely waiting for him right outside the door.

                He squeeze his eyelids shut briefly, exiting the bathroom, preparing himself for the embarrassment and ridicule that always accompanies Jean. He opens the door, but Jean doesn’t even spare him a glance. He’s too focused on his phone.

                “You ready?” Eren says, standing awkwardly by the front door.

                “Hm?” Jean looks up. “Oh, yeah.”

                                                                                                    ~|~   

                “So, he said he’s fine?” Marco whispers into Jean’s ear, huddling closer to him.

                Jean kicks a rock, whispering back, “Yeah, and he was pretty damn confident with the way he said it.”

                They both spare a glance at Eren, who is on the other side of Jean, at least five feet away. Marco figures that if he talks quietly enough, that would be enough space to prevent him from being able to overhear them. It seems to be working – Eren hasn’t looked their way once since they started walking.

                They don’t have a particular destination in mind, they’re just strolling along, sightseeing the places that they’ve already memorized and etched into their minds.

                “He doesn’t look fine,” Marco mutters back, leaning his chin on Jean’s shoulder.

                “Why are you so damn worried?” Jean barks back, keeping his voice low.

                “How can you _not_ be worried?” Marco retorts, hot breath hitting Jean’s face.

                Jean keeps his eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of them. “If he says he’s fine, let him be.”

                Eren lets out a brief cough, and Marco’s eyes widen like saucers. He violently shakes Jean’s arm. “Oh my god, what if he’s sick? What if he has cancer? Jean, what if-“

                “He doesn’t have _cancer_ ,” Jean rolls his eyes.

                “Still. He just coughed.” Marco’s hand rests on Jean’s arm, his eyes peering past his face to watch Eren.

                “So? Don’t tell me _you’ve_ never coughed when you weren’t terminally ill before.” Jean kicks the rock from before again, sending it veering off course into a nearby front yard.

                “Jean, that’s beside the point.”

                “No, it’s not.”

                “Hey, guys,” Eren speaks up, looking over, “Are you going to talk to me too, or was it pointless for me to come?”

                “It was pointless-“ Jean starts.

                “No! No,” Marco interrupts, moving over so that he can put his arms around Jean and Eren’s necks. “We love having you around.”

                Jean throws his head back slightly in exasperation, and Eren looks towards the road beside him. Marco squeezes them into a quick hug, tightening his arms around their shoulders, as if trying to say, _we’re all friends here!_

                “Wow, Eren,” Marco remarks, “When did you get so small?” He moves his arm back and runs a hand over Eren’s collarbones.

                Eren slaps him away, causing Marco to drop his arm completely. “The hell are you talking about?” He gets defensive.

                “I was just saying-“

                “I don’t care,” Eren interrupts, voice cracking slightly. “Let’s find somewhere to go.”

                Marco’s gaze lingers on him for a couple of seconds longer, before turning his head forward.

                “Okay,” Marco replies simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love all of the comments you guys have left on this, they're insanely encouraging. Thank you guys so, so much.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who that, who that? L-E-V-I

                “I don’t even know how to fucking play!” Jean pathetically swings his golf club, missing the ball and instead smacking the club into a nearby fire hydrant decoy, designed to decorate the putt-putt course. He leaves a small mark on the plastic, and lets out a frustrated groan.

                “Maybe if you calmed down-“ Marco starts, standing off to the side, holding a hand out, reaching over to try to pacify Jean.

                “Fuck this!” Jean shouts, this time swinging and, instead of hitting the ball, the golf club slips from his hands and shoots halfway across the course, nearly decapitating a tall, blond man with bushy eyebrows.

                “Ah! Ah, ah! I’m so sorry!” Marco calls to the man, who looks like he is still trying to figure out what just happened.

                Marco runs off to go collect the golf club, apologizing profusely to ears that can’t hear him.

                Eren sits down, back pressed to a light pole. He holds the scorecard in his hands, eyes skimming the numbers on it. Marco’s winning, of course, he’d gotten near-perfect scores on all of the holes they’d played thus far. Eren’s in second, his numbers absolute garbage compared to Marco’s – his score had to be at least fifteen points higher than Marco’s, and they haven’t even counted them up yet. Jean trails in last place, having not made a single hole yet.

                Eren smirks a bit. He’s actually enjoying himself here. It’s fun watching Jean have a mental breakdown, and it’s even better watching Marco frantically clean up after him. Just a moment before, Jean had nearly murdered a family of five for coming up to the hole they were working on before they’d finished, and Marco had to make sure that the family wouldn’t sue them for attempted assault.

                He throws his head back and closes his eyes. It’s been a while since he’s felt so _good_ , since he’s had so much _fun._ Even the gnawing in his belly can’t deter him right now.

                Eren hears Jean shout something about the golf courses being rigged, and he lets out a snigger. His head lolls to the side, resting on his shoulder. It’s beautiful outside, the air’s perfectly warm and clear, it almost makes Eren want to shrug off his – or rather, Jean’s - jacket and bathe in the sun’s golden rays. He doesn’t, however, and shifts his focus to the sweet smell of blooming flowers in the air, the faint aroma of pizza cooking in the distance. For the time being, he doesn’t even scold himself for liking the smell of food. It blends well with the comfortable spring atmosphere.

                He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his chin between them, eyes still closed. He wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, unbothered by the people who constantly give him frowns, unfazed by the staring that always goes together with the dirty looks given to him.

                Jean starts going on a rampage off to the side, yelling something about wanting to file a lawsuit against whoever designed his golf club because it’s ‘engineered so that he would always lose.’ Marco offers to switch clubs with him, to which he adamantly refuses.

                Eren, meanwhile, feels something brush up against him, and he opens his eyes, turning his head to the left.

                “Beautiful day, isn’t it,” a man with dark raven hair comments, looking not at Eren, but off into the distance. He sits next to him, his arm ever-so-faintly touching Eren’s side. The man leans onto said arm, propping him up.

                The man is wearing a loose dress shirt, with a tie strung around his neck. He has on dark pants, a golden watch attached to his wrist like a bird to its nest. His expression is vacant, gray eyes sharply observing the blue sky.

                “Levi?” Eren offers.

                “The one and hopefully only,” Levi’s face is painted with a small smile, such that one might need a microscope to see it well.

                “What are you doing here? Don’t you have to work today?” Eren can’t stop staring at Levi, afraid to even blink. His opinion of the man has changed considerably since their last encounter, when he was reluctant to give Levi even his name. He’d spent so much time mulling over the message Levi had given him on a napkin, he feels so confident that maybe Levi _could_ contribute something to his bland, forlorn life. Eren’s still on edge, thinking that maybe Levi really _does_ just feel sorry for him, but he can’t help but be hopeful.

                Levi’s eyes shift to look back at Eren, and his smile falls. “I do, but it’s my lunch break and Hanji suggested I try mini golf with her and Erwin.”

                Eren chuckles, not entirely sure who Hanji or Erwin are, but amused at the coincidence that had brought them together today. “Who’s covering for you?”

                “Mm, you don’t know them. They’re old acquaintances of mine.” Levi looks straight into Eren’s eyes, and Eren finds it difficult to speak. He feels his cheeks growing hotter, and his throat dries a bit. Why was this man, who Eren had no idea even existed until yesterday, having such an effect on him? Eren knows so little about Levi, and yet, he’s nervous, feeling self-conscious. If he hadn’t eaten those Skittles so many days ago, he might actually feel a little confident, maybe even consider showing off to Levi a bit. But he _had_ eaten those Skittles, and now his body is far from attractive. It wasn’t all that impressive before, but at least Eren felt like he might’ve been getting somewhere with it. How much had he weighed, before he indulged himself in those sugary candies? Part of Eren wants to know, but the other part is glad he _doesn’t_ know, understanding that he would still be unhappy with the number, whatever it might’ve been.

                Eren leans back, lifting his head from his knees. Levi’s eyes follow his, until their faces are mere inches from each other.

                Levi’s eyes narrow ever-so-slightly, and his tone lowers to just above a whisper as he says, “T’as de beaux yeux, tu sais?”

                “I’m sorry?” Eren says, crinkling his nose. He doesn’t have any idea what Levi just said, he’s not even sure what language it is.

                “You have beautiful eyes, you know?” Levi translates for him, expression unchanging. “It’s French.”

                Eren’s mouth drops open, and he opens and closes it several times, trying to find the right words to say. But he _can’t_ , because Levi has just told him something he’d never thought he’d ever hear.

                Eren’s worked so hard, he’s done hour after hour of exercise, and Levi is complimenting his _eyes_? Sure, he’s a little disappointed, because even fat people have great eyes sometimes. But to hear it spoken, the word _beautiful_ a melody sung for only Eren to hear, Eren feels like Christopher Columbus washing up on the shore of the New World. His heart skips a beat, his chest tightens, and he feels tears well up behind his eyes.

                Something about Eren is _beautiful_? Nobody’s said the word ‘beautiful’ to him since his mother, and she passed away before he’d even become a teenager.

                Levi has just said that Eren has beautiful eyes. He’s said nothing about his body, nothing about his hair, nothing about anything important – but he’s said all that Eren needs to hear. That there _is_ something about him worth looking at, at least from Levi’s view, and he can’t help it when a tear trails down his cheek.

                “What? What’s wrong?” Levi’s face morphs to show concern, eyebrows furrowing. “Did I say something wrong?”

                “No, no,” Eren says quickly, wiping his face with his palm. “It’s just that… thank you, thank you so much, sir.”

                “Don’t call me sir,” Levi scoffs, relaxing. “It’s _Levi_.”

                “Yes, sir.”

                “Don’t make me have to punch one of those pretty little eyes you have.”

                Eren laughs, louder than he intended to. He’s so, _so_ fucking happy right now, and he’s not even entirely sure why. He feels giddy, his heart racing and his cheeks flushing red. He must look like a damn train wreck right now.

                “Levi! Levi?” Eren and Levi both whip their heads in the direction of the sound. Their eyes settle on two tall people, one with a ponytail and the other with eyebrows resembling caterpillars. Eren recognizes the bushy-browed man as the one who’d nearly been beheaded by Jean a moment ago.

                “Ah, shit,” Levi mutters. “They’re looking for me. Must’ve _finally_ finished the hole we were on.”

                “It took them that long?” Eren looks up at Levi as he stands.

                “None of us know how to play golf. You’d think Hanji might, seeing as how she told us to come, but nope,” Levi peers down at Eren.

                Levi turns to leave, and Eren, in the heat of the moment, grabs the back of his pant leg. He whips his head around to look down at the boy.

                “You’ll still be at the movie theater tomorrow, right?” Eren asks.

                Levi looks at him, gray eyes mixing with green. The sky has turned a light blue, the sign of midday. It fits quite nicely with Levi’s gorgeous figure, and Eren finds himself wondering why he can’t look as nice as Levi does.

                “Of course,” Levi murmurs, “I’ll be there.”

                Eren lets go of his leg and watches as he retreats back to his company, who welcome him back with open arms. Levi doesn’t spare Eren another glance.

                “Eren,” a breathless Marco appears, “I think we should go now. Jean’s at the front desk demanding a refund.”

                Eren laughs heartily, and Marco’s taken aback by the sudden burst of happiness. Eren knows that Marco hasn’t heard him laugh like that in a long, long time. He just wants to believe that Marco’s surprised face isn’t supposed to be indicative of the disgust he likely harbors for Eren.

                “Then we’d better go get his ass, huh,” Eren gets up from the ground, moving towards Marco.

                “What’s gotten you in such a good mood?” Marco gives a small smile. “Usually just the mention of Jean is enough to upset you.”

                “Hmm,” Eren ponders, “I think it’s the air. It’s, it’s _beautiful_ today, isn’t it?” His smile widens.

                Marco looks at him oddly, he hasn’t a clue what happened to him. He goes along with it, though.

                “Yeah, it really – oh my god, Jean, no!” Marco sprints off towards the front desk, seeing his boyfriend holding the employees at club-point.

                Eren doesn’t run after him, choosing instead to stroll towards the pair at his own leisure pace.

                He glances back towards where Levi had been a moment ago. He’s not sure where he’s wandered off to now.

                “Thank you, again,” Eren murmurs to the empty space.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay classy, Jean.

                “Not enough cleavage, Playboy Bunny,” Jean says after a moment of assessing Eren’s outfit. He’s splayed across his mattress on his stomach, ankles crossed in the air as he props his head up on the palm of his hand. His phone hangs loosely in his other hand, being given far more attention than Eren, who stands in the doorway of the bathroom.

                “Jean,” Eren groans. “This is important!”

                “I’m sure it is,” Jean rolls his eyes. “That’s why I’m telling you to show off the goods.”

                Eren growls at him. “I’m being serious.”

                “So am I.”

                Eren glares at him, despite Jean not actually looking at him anymore. “What do _you_ suggest I wear?”

                Jean lets out a laugh, “I think you should go dressed as Miley Cyrus. But that’s why you don’t ask what _I_ think.”

                “Do you really think I should change?” Eren looks at the sleeves on the dress shirt he has on. It’s a dull white, the cuffs tattered from years of use.

                “Definitely,” Jean glances up at him, “I’m no expert in fashion, but even I wouldn’t step out of the house wearing a shirt that looks like my deceased grandmother.”

                “That’s horrible,” Eren remarks. Jean has a point though – he hadn’t noticed it before he put it on, but the shirt has more wrinkles than a book has words.

                “I thought it was pretty damn clever. I suggest changing the pants too, turn someone on a little with yoga pants.”

                “Men don’t wear yoga pants. Do they?”

                “Who the fuck are you to talk? You used to wear them all the time.”

                “But I threw all of mine away.” Eren’s arms fall to his side. He isn’t lying – he threw away the tightest of his clothing when he discovered how nauseating he looks in them.

                Jean rolls over and stands up, going over to dig through his closet. He fishes out a pair of pants and tosses them to Eren.

                “Don’t ask why I have those. They’ll probably be too long on you, but they’re spandex, so they should still be form-fitting.”

                Eren looks at the pants he’d been given. “I can’t believe you’re actually helping me.”

                “I can’t believe you’re actually taking my advice. You must be pretty fucking desperate.”

                Eren sticks out his tongue at Jean, and receives the middle finger back.

                “I could probably help you better if you actually told me where you’re going,” Jean says as he returns to his spot on his bed, “But I’m not too sure that I want to know.”

                Eren ignores him and shuts the bathroom door, moving on to his next selection of clothing to try on. He switches his plain tan trousers for the tight, black yoga pants Jean had given him, and he exchanges his shirt for a band tee and a cardigan.

                He turns to face the mirror. He doesn’t think he looks all that good. The pants are suffocating him, showing off his ugliest lumps and leaving no room for imagination. The cardigan does a fair job of concealing his upper half, overwhelming him and falling just above his hips. If he weren’t so fat, he might actually look cute.

                Eren knows he shouldn’t be so concerned with what outfit he wears. He’s not even sure that Levi will care what he wears – Eren’s decided that, when Levi called his eyes beautiful, he’d made it a point to say his _eyes_ because the rest of Eren is fucking hideous. And Eren’s aware of that, he doesn’t need to be reminded.

                Eren exits the bathroom and stands by the door, waiting for Jean’s assessment.

                Jean lets out a frustrated curse as he fails yet again at the game he’s playing on his phone, then looks up at Eren. His eyes widen a bit, and he nods his head solemnly.

                “I don’t know how you did it, Jaeger,” he says, “But you don’t look half bad.”

                Eren reddens, biting his lower lip. Is Jean actually complimenting him for once?

                He mutters a quick “thank you” before grabbing his phone and leaving the apartment. A whole day has passed since Eren’s last encounter with Levi, and all that he’s thought about since then were the few words Levi had all but whispered to Eren about his eyes. He can’t remember the French, but he certainly remembers the translation. _You have beautiful eyes, you know?_

                Since Eren’s visit to the mini golfing center with Marco and Jean, Eren has been frantically working to try to look nice for Levi. There’s only so much that can be done to such a fucking ugly face, so he’s tried to emphasize his eyes, considering that Levi had made it a point to say that they were beautiful. Jean decided to run off with Marco to his house after the outing, likely to do things that Eren never hopes hear about, and Eren took that opportunity to look up ways to make his eyes stand out. He found countless makeup tutorials, though he’d never admit to actually watching any. If you asked him how he suddenly became an expert on eyeshadow, he’d blame it on Mikasa. And no, he totally didn’t run down to the store to pick up a makeup kit, no, no, no. Definitely not.

                Eren feels a little ridiculous, being a nineteen year old boy fretting over a silly little getaway like this. It’s not like it’s a date, anyway – Levi had just asked him to go see a movie with him. No big deal.

                Eren still feels a strange urge to impress the shorter man, though. He’d gone out of his way to find the perfect eyeliner to subtly enhance the green of his eyes, to elongate his lashes to make them flutter when he blinks.

                He’s almost embarrassed, the fact that he’s acting like such a teenage _girl_ , all because he may or may not be developing a crush on a man who’d called his eyes beautiful.

                He knows he _shouldn’t_ like a man like Levi in this way – Levi’s so confusing. The thought runs through Eren’s head that Levi probably does this to everyone who catches his eye, probably woos them with sweet words and messages on crummy napkins, and Eren can’t help but wonder if Levi’s just using him, because people don’t flirt with Eren. They recoil and take pictures of him to show off to their friends, ridiculing him. But what would Levi want with _him_?

                Still, Eren walks out of the apartment complex with a spring in his step, eager to make it to the movie theater on time. He’s nervous, unsure of whether Levi expects Eren to be early, to be late, or to be right on time. He holds the napkin with Levi’s note close to his heart, as if he’d absorb its words and all of the feelings that went with them. Levi could be a jerk, he could be a player, but that’s not going to stop Eren from finding out why Levi’s bothering to take him out for a movie.

                Eren had gone to sleep happy last night, a first for him in such a long time. And it could only be attributed to Levi, the raven haired waiter who’d done him a lifetime in only a few days.

                He wants to believe that this is a new thing for Levi too, that Levi isn’t just some asshole. Eren wants to believe that, once Levi’s had his fun building him up, he won’t break him down like a wall made of loose bricks.

                The cold night air hits Eren’s exposed skin like a bullet, and he snuggles into his cardigan like a butterfly to its wings.

                “Aha,” he giggles to himself, thinking of how Levi had just so happened to be at the right place at the right time to see Eren the day before. God, he really _is_ acting like a teenage girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has more of Levi's thoughts. Just a little heads-up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi's thirsty.

                Levi looks down at his watch, sitting on a bench in front of the movie theater. 8:43. Maybe Eren isn’t coming, after all.

                He peeps around at his surroundings, taking in the faded pink of the cherry blossom trees, the light green of the grass, all standing out against the dark night sky.

                Cars are littered around the parking lot, and Levi feels really glad that he didn’t _drive_ to the theater. There isn’t a single parking spot available. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea for him to ask Eren to visit him on a _Friday_ either, when literally everyone and their pet dog go for a night out.

                He spares his watch another glance. 8:44. Still no Eren to be seen.

                Levi isn’t sure what to expect. Just yesterday, he got lost in a forest of seafoam green eyes, and found himself uttering words that he’d meant to keep locked up as thoughts.

                  _You have beautiful eyes, you know?_ God above, why did Levi say that? It didn’t help that his words managed to make Eren fucking _cry_ for who knows what reason. Normally, when someone gets called beautiful, they just blush and avert their eyes. Eren was reduced to goddamn _tears_. Levi’s not sure if he should be proud or mortified.

                He didn’t lie, though. Eren’s eyes are nothing short of incredible. Mesmerizing, hypnotic, enthralling, you name it, that’s what they are.

                Of all that Levi knows of Eren’s appearance, of the bones that strain against his tan skin, of the smoothness that decorates his plush face, Eren’s eyes stand out. Eren is exceptionally good-looking, and so much of his appeal is in his innocent, doe-like face. But that’s only because he conceals the rest of his body behind bulky sweaters and jeans. The worst part is, Levi could tell that Eren had just thrown himself together that day at the golf center – his hair was strewn as if it hadn’t been brushed in weeks, his breath reeked of lack of attention. His clothing engulfed him, and he had on two different kinds of shoes. But he was still so fucking attractive.

                “Sir?”

                Levi’s head shoots over as soon as he hears the familiar, gentle melody of Heaven’s gift to him speak, standing at the other end of the bench. Levi swears he can hear a gospel chorus chiming, and Levi honestly thinks that Eren deserves his own spotlight now, a halo above his messy chestnut locks.

                “Hello,” Levi breathes out as Eren lowers himself onto the bench beside him.

                 Levi watches in awe as Eren perches himself on the very edge of the bench, only an inch or two of his rear actually making contact with the cold seat. He crosses his ankles in front of himself and wraps his arms around his cadaverous body, sleeves engulfing his hands.

                “It’s cold tonight, isn’t it?” Eren says, looking out at the cars slowly trailing by, in hunt of a parking spot. “I could’ve sworn it was spring.”

                Levi hums in response, awestruck by everything that makes up the crème de la crème of society right beside him. How is it possible to be so entranced by one boy? Levi’s never thought of himself as a romantic man, but this kid managed to flip his whole world upside down, and Levi doesn’t even know what Eren’s favorite color is.

                Just the thought of having to tear his eyes away from the hollow-cheeked angel sends a shiver down his back. He wouldn’t mind waking up, looking into those incredible eyes each morning. As long as he could run his fingers through messy brown locks and feel silky tan skin under the pads of his thumbs, he thinks he could be content with the rest of his life. Even if it means running a shitty restaurant with an overly eccentric psycho and a tall bastard who can’t clean up after himself.

                Levi internally slaps himself. He hardly knows anything about this boy beside him, and yet, he’s already imagining a future with him. Levi wonders when exactly he lost his mind. Damn if he’s not too old for this shit.

                Eren turns to face him after a moment. “So, what movie are we going to watch?”

                Levi’s throat dries, he’s at a loss for words. The dark night sky perfectly highlights the roundness of Eren’s eyelids, it perfectly outlines the shine of his golden skin. It sends shadows over his face, enhancing the gauntness of his body. When was the last time this kid ate something?

                “I’m not sure,” Levi admits, swallowing roughly. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

                “Wanna go look then?” Eren gets up out of his seat, Levi following suit.

                A small smile plasters itself across Eren’s face as he sprints off like a child just told that they can pick out a free candy bar. Levi has to jog to keep up with him.

                They reach the front, where the ticket counter is, a listing of the upcoming movies hidden behind a tall glass. A teenage boy with short, close-shaven hair sits behind the counter, flipping through a magazine that looks suspiciously like porn.

                “What about this one?” Levi points up at a title, index finger just barely touching the glass.

                “No, I saw that one a few days ago. I nearly fell asleep halfway through it.”

                “This one, then,” Levi moves his finger down to a different title.

                “I heard it sucked.”

                Levi sighs, giving Eren an exasperated glare. Eren shrinks back. “I, I mean, we _can_ watch it, if that’s what you want-“

                “No,” Levi looks back at the movie listings, “How about this? You pick the movie, I pay.”

                “What? No, you don’t have to,” Eren holds up his hands in a stop motion. “Don’t waste your money on me.”

                “It’s not a waste if I’m spending it on you.”

                Eren’s face lights up like a stop light. Levi gives himself a mental high five.

                “I, uh, okay, fine, let’s just go with, um,” Eren fumbles over his words, “That one,” his finger randomly selects a movie.

                Levi lets out a soft chuckle, nodding. They move over together to the counter and get the tickets before proceeding.

                Levi opens the front door for Eren, leading into the movie theater, and he takes the opportunity to be a total gentleman and admire Eren’s ass as he walks through. It’s almost as if any and all cellulite that may have found its way onto Eren’s thin body went straight down to his rear-end. That’s not to say that Eren is a Nicki Minaj, but to Levi he may as well be. He thanks whatever worldly figure lies above that Eren chose to wear the tightest pants known to man tonight.

                They walk into the movie theater, Levi trailing a step behind. He notices Eren go straight past the snack counters, and he has to grab his wrist to pull him back.

                “What,” Levi says, “Are we just not going to eat anything?”

                Eren’s face grows red, and he averts his gaze to the side. “I just- I just don’t want you to pay more than you have to,” he says quickly, voice low.

                “I don’t mind, Eren,” Levi looks up at him, “I really don’t. Now pick out a goddamned snack.”

                “But- I’m not hungry,” he says, eyes returning to Levi’s.

                “You don’t have to be hungry to eat,” Levi responds, “You don’t honestly think that everybody here buys a snack because they’re _hungry_?”

                Eren’s face grows even redder, ears turning a shade Levi thought impossible.

                “You know what?” Levi lets out a huff, “You go find us some seats in the theater, _I’ll_ buy us a couple of snacks.”

                Eren hesitates, but he eventually nods in agreement and wanders off, taking one of the tickets from Levi.

                “How odd,” Levi mutters, thinking of Eren’s intense reluctance towards Levi buying them food. He attributes it to be purely out of selfless reason; he _did_ tell Levi that he didn’t want him to pay for everything. But something gnaws at the back of his mind, telling him that there’s more to this than he’s thinking. He ignores that thought, and instead whips out his wallet and goes to stand in the line for food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, thank you guys so much for reading this, leaving comments, and all that jazz. <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's rude to talk during a movie.

                “Ah, fuck, I’m so sorry,” Eren mutters to the crowds of people he nearly assaults with his hefty hips, trying to make his way down the row to two of the only seats left available in the movie theater.

                He sits down, feeling heavyhearted. He’s so embarrassed – all these people that he just subjected to the horrid sight of his butt in their faces. They didn’t deserve that. They’re probably trying to find some bleach for their eyes now, Eren wouldn’t blame them. He just wants to melt into the floor and die right now, he’s so humiliated.

                Eren’s not even sure if Levi will be able to find him, he’s on the opposite side of the movie theater than where the entrance is. On one hand, he wants to curl up into himself to avoid the shame of the gazes he knows are set on him, of all the people undoubtedly calling him a walrus inside their heads. On the other hand, he needs to stand up tall, in order to wave Levi over when it comes due time.

                He settles for the middleman and peers out over the back of his chair, eyeing the theater entrance. His fingers tug at the ends of his sleeves nervously, his teeth clenching onto his upper lip. The movie previews begin to play, and Eren feels his heart start racing. What if Levi ditched him? What if he realized that Eren wasn’t worth his time and just left? What if Eren had fooled himself into thinking he looked decent tonight, when in reality he looks like a nightmare, and that had driven Levi into wanting to escape at the first opportunity he got?

                Eren can’t kid himself. He _always_ looks like a nightmare. He almost wants to apologize to Levi for making him put up with his shitty self, but of course, Levi isn’t in the theater yet, so he can’t.

                Another minute passes, and Eren feels his eyes well up with tears. He gasps, he can’t fucking cry, not here, not now. It would make his eye makeup run, and he really doesn’t need anybody seeing him with black streaks down his cheeks. He already looks bad enough.

                He feels movement in the seat beside him and whips his head around. Levi’s there, a plate of two slices of the greasiest pizza Eren’s ever seen occupying one hand, the other clutching the caps of two water bottles. Eren hadn’t even noticed Levi walk in, despite having stared directly his way as he entered.

                “Ah, how did you find me?” Eren asks, nervously, eyeing the plate of calories Levi sets on the arm of their connected chairs.

                “What do you mean?” Levi asks, unscrewing the lid to Eren’s water bottle for him, though Eren never asked him to.

                “I mean, I didn’t call you over or anything,” Eren hides his hands under his sleeves, fingers playing with the fabric.

                Levi gives him a weird look and says, “It’s really hard to miss when someone’s watching you. It’s not like you were completely hidden from view, Eren.”

                “Oh!” Eren replies abashedly. He’s so fucking stupid.

                “Anyway,” Levi whispers as the movie previews go off and the actual movie starts up, the lights around them dimming, “I would’ve bought popcorn, but they were all out.”

                “A movie theater, out of popcorn?” Eren jokes anxiously, but in truth he wishes that Levi hadn’t gotten anything at all, or that he _had_ managed to get popcorn, because there’s no way in Hades that he’s going to devour another 800 unnecessary calories. Popcorn would likely have less calories, but then again, it’s movie theater popcorn, so it’s likely slathered in a mountain of butter, the destroyer of diets. There’s just no winning here.

                Eren leans back in his seat, trying to disappear between the cushions. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He hadn’t counted on Levi buying him food, he hadn’t counted on Levi to expect him to eat. He prays that Levi doesn’t notice his reluctance towards the slab of grease on the plate, and that Levi offers to eat Eren’s slice so that he has an excuse to not eat it.

                Why did Levi have to purchase the single most fattening thing on the menu? Anything would be better than _pizza._ It’s so tempting, Eren’s so close to breaking his resolve. But he can’t. If he does, he’ll gain weight. If he gains weight, Levi won’t care to see him anymore. If he gains weight, _nobody_ will care to see him anymore. Eren hates being alone, it’s the one time that there’s nothing there to distract him, it’s the one time that the devil inside of him is allowed the freedom to persuade him further towards damaging his body with scars and potentially ending his life.

                Just having to sit here and watch a movie, in complete silence, is difficult. It’s hard to focus, Eren’s belly aches and it’s unrelenting, persistent, wanting food to fill it. But it won’t get food. It’s not allowed food. Not until it’s thin and Eren can fit into the smallest size on the clothing rack. Not until Eren can be labelled as, “the skinny friend.” Not until Eren gets made fun of for being so _thin_ rather than so morbidly fat.

                He tries to watch the movie, but the smell of rich cheese melted to perfection fills his nose and his mind. Eren absolutely loves cheese; it’s one of his favorite things to eat. It’s also filled with insane calories. Eren feels himself start to sweat, and he tries to clear his mind. He’s unsuccessful.

                About fifteen minutes pass of Eren trying to stay determined, of Eren trying to stay on task, of Levi slowly picking at his own slice of pizza. Eren moves a hand up to cover his mouth, he feels like he’s going to vomit – the smell, it’s overwhelming, and just the thought of the pizza sliding down his throat is nauseating.

                Levi nudges his side. “Are you okay?” He eyes him warily.

                “I’m fine,” Eren plasters a big, fake smile across his face, moving his hand away. Levi doesn’t seem to buy it.

                “You haven’t even touched your food,” he insists.

                “I told you, I’m not hungry.”

                “Eren, I’m not hungry either. But I’m still eating.”

                “I had a big dinner,” Eren lies. Eren never eats a big meal.

                Levi’s mouth forms a straight line, and he sits back in his seat, not responding to Eren’s retaliation. Eren’s not sure if he should be okay with that.

                Eren’s eyes widen and he tightens an arm around his stomach as his ears are assaulted with a guttural howl coming from his stomach, pain shooting through his body. He snatches the water bottle Levi had given him, and downs it like a camel.

                When he’s done, he glances over to see Levi giving him a peculiar expression, something that looks like a mixture of concern and confusion.

                “Eren?” Levi mutters, eyeing him. Eren looks at Levi out of the corner of his eyes, his cheeks flushing. Eren doesn’t respond.

                “Eren,” Levi repeats, with slightly more volume. Eren winces. His body’s still recovering from the sharp pain that had flooded him, and his legs start to tremble. Eren shoves his hands between his knees, trying to calm them down.

                “Eren,” Levi says, one more time, before reaching a hand out to grip Eren’s chin. He moves his head so that the two are facing, breaths mingling with one another. The closeness is suffocating, but Eren can’t say that he particularly minds it. There’s something about Levi, something about being next to a man who feels it his purpose to shower Eren with things he’s never felt before that makes Eren simultaneously feel beyond comfortable and inexplicably uncomfortable at the same time.

                 He wants to cower away, he can’t grow attached. If he grows attached, he’ll just feel disappointed when Levi leaves him. Levi’s going to leave, it’s clear. Nobody wants to be associated with someone as unpleasant as Eren. But Eren can’t bring himself to depart.

                “Eren, did I just-“ Levi starts to accuse, only to be interrupted.

                “Hush,” Eren plasters the fakest smile ever across his face, “Not right now, in the middle of a movie.”

                Levi narrows his eyes. He complies, reluctantly.

                “Don’t think this is over, yet.”   


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patience is a virtue, but impatience gets things done.

                Levi and Eren leave the movie theater side-by-side, Eren carrying the plate of uneaten pizza, Levi holding the two water bottles.

                Eren tosses the plate in a garbage can, and Levi gives him a look of subtle disapproval. Eren lowers his head, averting his eyes, and Levi instantly feels a twinge of guilt. Eren’s once happy features look so despairing now, and Levi can’t help but feel like he’s caused that. They walk towards the lobby of the movie theater, entering the crowd of bustling people moving back and forth, people frantically trying to collect their snacks and tickets and friends before their movie starts.

                “Let’s go outside,” Levi murmurs. He holds onto Eren’s wrist, guiding him through the string of individuals until the late night air brushes against their skin, creating goosebumps.

                They stop under a streetlight just outside the theater. Levi leans against the pole, not missing the way that Eren huddles into his cardigan like a turtle into its shell. Levi, feeling sentimental, shrugs off his own jacket and moves to wrap it around Eren’s shoulders.

                Eren might be taller than Levi, but Levi is much wider, making the jacket still appear big on Eren’s emaciated body. Eren opens his mouth to protest, but Levi hushes him with a finger to his lips. His green eyes widen at the touch, unwavering when Levi pulls his hand back.

                “Now,” Levi says, voice deep and serious, “Are we going to address what happened?”

                “I don’t know what you mean,” Eren says, shifting his gaze to watch the road beside them. He covers the lower part of his face with the collar of Levi’s work jacket.

                “Don’t play dumb,” Levi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s not entirely sure where this conversation is going – he has his suspicions about what just went down in the theater, but he doesn’t have any concrete theories yet. Why didn’t Eren eat in there? Everybody loves pizza. Even Levi doesn’t mind it, and he’s fairly picky about his choice of food.

                Levi thinks that Eren’s hiding something. No, scratch that, he _knows_ that Eren’s hiding something. Levi could hardly even focus on the movie at the time, he was too busy trying to piece together why Eren wasn’t eating, why his stomach growls so desperately, why the tips of his fingers are a light blue despite not being painted. He suspects the worst, but has faith in the thought that he’s wrong, that this is just how Eren is, that Eren just doesn’t like eating out, that Eren is just naturally thin.

                “Are you okay?” He settles on these words, unsure of how else to phrase his barrage of questions without seeming like a stalker vying for information.

                “I’m fine,” Eren says, removing Levi’s jacket collar from around his face.

                “Mm,” Levi hums. He doesn’t believe Eren for a second, and his head fills with the stupidest idea he’s ever come up with.

                Levi shakes his head slightly, trying to rack his brain. Is he really going to do this? Already? Eren probably hates him for cornering him like this. Levi shouldn’t run the risk of losing his Paper Thin Beauty, he’s already nearly driven him away with his disgusting display of disregard for Eren’s emotions. What if Eren has an illness where he can’t eat certain things and Levi had just tormented him by shoving delicious food under his nose? He wants to hurl at the mere thought of it. If this were the case, though, Eren should’ve said something earlier.

                Levi reaches up and clutches the front of Eren’s band tee, pulling him down to eye level. He looks into his eyes for just a moment, taking in the close up sight of the Garden of Eden before him. He tilts his head to the left and presses their lips together, taking in the lavish touch of Eren’s soft lips, the warm feeling of his body connecting the two men together. Levi doesn’t even care that someone walks by and shouts a derogatory term at them, he doesn’t even care that Eren’s eyes are still wide with surprise. He wants to feel these lips against his for eternity.

                But his eternity doesn’t start tonight, because Eren pulls back after a few moments of motionless kissing. Levi wants to laugh at how red Eren’s face is.

                He’s not too sure what’s gotten into himself – never would he have thought that, one day, he’d be brushing on the lips of a male whom he’d met mere days ago. He hadn’t even bothered to ask if Eren was gay, though his constant blushing at Levi is a sort of giveaway. Levi had just assumed that Eren took interest in him. He couldn’t stand the thought that maybe, if he doesn’t claim Eren as his lover _now,_ it might be too late when he makes a move _later._   He’s not sure what’s wrong with Eren, assuming of course that there _is_ something wrong with him, and he’s not just being a stubborn ass, refusing Levi’s offers of food. But he still likes what he sees, and he likes the thought of being around Eren for a few more intimate scenarios.

                Levi’s expression remain stoic as he watches Eren trip over himself, trying and failing to find the right words to say. “You- I- What-“

                Levi places a hand to Eren’s cheek, the pad of his thumb running over sharp jaw bones. Levi’s never seen a boy look so malnourished, and yet so mesmerizing at the same time. Eren’s as thin as a rail, and Levi feels himself wanting to bake him a whole feast of fattening foods.

                “You know, Eren,” Levi murmurs, breaking Eren away from his impending nervous breakdown,  “Tu as de belles lèvres, mon chéri.”

                A smirk grows on Levi’s face as he feels the heat starting to resonate from Eren’s cheeks. God, what he wouldn’t give up to be allowed to place a few more kisses down from the base of his forehead to the tip of his chin. He holds back though, uncertain of whether Eren truly likes being kissed by Levi, or if he’s just embarrassed by the whole thing.

                “I- I’m sorry?” Eren stutters, biting his lower lip.

                “You have beautiful lips, darling,” Levi informs him.

                Eren’s face morphs into what can only be assumed is pure shock and disbelief.

                “Can I- Can I see you tomorrow?” Eren asks, placing his own bony hand over Levi’s.

                “Of course,” Levi responds. He can’t say no to those eyes, those gorgeous round pupils. Levi’s never met someone who could so easily convince him to do things he’d never dream of, from kissing a brat whose age is still unknown to him, to imagining a future with the same brat whose past and present are still partially a mystery.

                “I’m sorry,” Eren murmurs, and Levi raises his brow slightly.

                “Sorry?” Levi asks, “Sorry for what?”

                “For being so selfish.”

                Levi wants to slap that ridiculous thought out of Eren’s mind. Selfish? How the hell had he been _selfish_? Did he think that he was being selfish by letting Levi pay for their movie? But Levi had offered to pay. Did he think it was selfish, to deny Levi’s gift of food, both times – from the restaurant, to just now, with the pizza? Or was there a deeper meaning behind his statement? Levi wants to ask, but green eyes become wet with impending tears, so he quickly comes up with a better question, one more appropriate for the moment.

                “How about this,” Levi says, “I’ll forgive you if you allow _me_ to be selfish for a few minutes and walk you home.”

                Eren perks up, blush increasing on his cheeks. “I wouldn’t mind,” he chuckles, “I have to warn you though, we might run into my roommate, and he’s the world’s biggest fucktard.”

                Eren drops his hand from where it lay over Levi’s, and Levi follows suit, arm falling to his side limply.

                “Ah?” Levi goes to stroll by Eren, the two making their way down the sparsely populated sidewalk. “What’s wrong with them?”

                “Oh, god,” Eren groans, throwing his head back slightly. “What _isn’t_ wrong with him?”

                Levi chuckles, encouraging Eren to continue.

                “His name is Jean,” he says, “He was with me when I met you at that restaurant the other day.”

                Levi nods, remembering the name, but unable to remember which face it’s to be paired with. Was Jean the one with freckles, or was he the horse?

                “Let me tell you,” Eren continues, “This guy is the fucking devil himself.”

                “Why do you live with him, then?” Levi steps over a discarded soup can.

                “Money troubles,” he states simply. “He’s like- He’s like my sugar daddy,” he laughs.

                Levi laughs along, but for a different reason. “I don’t think you understand what that term means.”

                “What? I thought-“

                “No, never mind. We don’t need to talk about that.”

                Eren shrugs. “Fine. Oh my god, though – this guy, Jean, he gets offended if you even so much as breathe on his mountain of hair products. It’s like he’s built a damn shrine to them, in the bathroom. I’m not even sure if he uses any of them.”

                Levi stares down at their path of travel, letting the boy next to him tell his tale of his bothersome living partner. He speaks almost fondly, making Levi wonder if Eren truly dislikes Jean with the ferocity that he says he does. To him, it sounds more like a coarse friendship, but he can’t judge, he can hardly even remember what Jean looks like. He’d focused far too much of his attention on the beauty beside him, that day at the restaurant.

                They turn onto a different street, the only lights being the moon above and the rare streetlight that actually works.

                Eren blabs on and on about his roommate, from the way he garbles down food with the volume of a roaring lion – which is when Levi remembers which of Eren’s accomplices was Jean – to the way he shoots spit balls at Eren’s snoozing figure every other Tuesday night. Levi feels his own sort of dislike growing for the man, however he has a feeling that it’s far different than the hatred Eren has.

                “Ah,” Eren sighs, “None of that shit really bothers me though.” They turn onto the street where Eren’s apartment resides, mere steps away from their nearing departure.

                “It doesn’t?” Levi knows for a fact that if he had a roommate who did that garbage, he’d rather move out and go live in a cardboard box on the side of the street than just put up with it.

                “Not really,” Eren shrugs. They pass under a streetlight, golden rays draping over Eren’s skinny body and reflecting the shine of Levi’s alabaster skin. The light is soon lost, though, as they walk past the pole and back into the cold clutches of dark night. Eren pulls his arms closer around his body.  “I mean, the name-calling is really the only thing that annoys me.”

                “What does he say?” Levi grits his teeth harsher than he intends to, sounding less than amused. How dare that horse fucker make such an exquisite being feel any sort of emotion besides happiness?

                “Nothing horrible, I mean,” Eren turns his head so that Levi can only see the back of his unruly hair, “He never says things that are untrue, I guess.”

                “What does he say?” Levi repeats, pushing harder.

                “He- Well, sometimes he says that I’m stupid,” Eren turns his head back to look forward again, hands wandering down to pick at the loose strings of his sleeves.

                “What else?” Levi demands, voice monotone.

                “I- It’s not at all what it sounds like, Levi,” Eren defends, “He only says things like that because I deserve it.”

                Levi’s heart flutters a little at the sound of Eren saying his name. He internally punches himself for acting like such a teenager. “How exactly do you deserve it?”

                “Aha,” Eren lets out a halfhearted chuckle, “I play pranks on him sometimes. It really angers him.”

                Levi relaxes. “So he only does it when he’s mad?”

                “Mmm, um, yes,” Eren’s voice comes out uneasy and tentative. Levi’s not convinced that Eren’s telling him the truth, but he doesn’t have time to mull it over, because Eren abruptly stops in front of the open hallway leading to an apartment complex.

                “You live here?” Levi questions, assuming that’s why they stopped.

                “Mhm,” Eren nods, “Not the best place, but it’s affordable.”

                “I thought you said that your roommate pays for the room.”

                “He does.”

                “Why doesn’t he make you guys move somewhere… better?”

                There was no denying that, if the trashy hallway before them and the array of litter surrounding them was any indication, Eren probably lived in an equally shitty room.

                “He’s not _rich,_ Levi,” Eren says.

                “Does he have a job?”

                “Maybe. I don’t know, I’ve never asked. I don’t think so. He gets a lot of his shit from his boyfriend.”

                Levi sighs, closing the distance between himself and the Paper Thin Beauty before him, tired of trying to pry information out of the boy. He definitely doesn’t like the idea of Eren living with a guy, _especially_ not a homosexual guy, but Levi decides it’s not quite his place to say anything yet. He reaches up and grabs Eren’s chin gently between his index finger and thumb.

                “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks.

                Eren’s cheeks turn a light pink hue, and Levi’s not sure if he’ll ever get tired of the sight.

                “Where should we meet at?” Eren asks.

                “We’ll see,” Levi responds, dropping his arm. He turns around and begins to head down the street, ignoring Eren’s cries of “Wait! What does that mean? Where do I go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Thoughts?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what's this, someone's taking notice?

                “You just let him leave, without even asking where he was going?” Marco scolds.

                Jean lies back on Marco’s bed, arms behind his head. He closes his eyes. “Possibly. Why does it matter?”

                Marco sits beside him, red gaming system in his hands. The sound of a faint melody fills the background with noise, music resembling that of an adventure theme. “He could be going out to jump off of a bridge.”

                “I doubt he was getting dressed up just so he could go kill himself.”

                “He might’ve been!” A loud noise sounds from Marco’s game, accompanying Marco’s exclamation of concern.

                “Even if he did, why should I care? He’s never done anything for me,” Jean says.

                “You don’t have to act like you don’t like him, Jean,” Marco replies.

                “I _don’t_ like him, though,” Jean argues.

                “If you really didn’t, you’d kick him out of that place.”

                Jean nudges Marco with his knee. “I don’t have to _like_ him to live with him.”

                “So why do you do it then?”

                “Because I’m such a nice person,” the blond replies sarcastically, smirking.

                “No, really,” Marco sardonically remarks, laughing.

                Jean briefly feigns hurt over Marco’s words, putting his hand over his heart and scrunching his nose, before returning to his previous position. “I’d hate to lose Armin as a friend. I think that if I left, Armin would easily side with Eren.”

                “Mmm,” Marco hums, “That’s it?”

                “What are you trying to imply?” Jean opens his eyes and glares at him.

                Marco ignores his boyfriend’s disapproving expression. “When was the last time you’ve even talked to Armin?”

                “That doesn’t matter.”

                “See? I think that you _do_ care, even if you show it in unconventional ways.”

                “You’re a dumbass. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one here?” Jean moves so that he’s sitting up, chin resting on his palm. “Why do you keep bringing that fuckface up, anyways? This is the third time in three days that we’ve talked about Eren.”

                Marco pauses to consider it, pressing buttons rapidly on his gaming system. “I’ve told you, Jean,” he mutters after a moment, “I’m worried about him.”

                “I get that,” Jean says, “But why?”

                Marco bites his lower lip and turns to face Jean, pausing his game and tossing it to the side. “I have a theory,” he murmurs, “I don’t know if this is the case for sure, though.”

                Jean picks up Marco’s discarded game and continues where he left off. “Well, spit it out, then,” he says, “Who knows, you could be right.” A song that sounds suspiciously like a game-over tune plays from the system, and Jean mutters a quiet curse. “You usually are,” he adds bitterly.

                Marco’s silent for a good minute, listening to Jean try to redeem himself, only to get another game-over in record time. “I think Eren might have an eating disorder,” Marco mutters.

                “A what?” Jean tears his eyes away from his screen just long enough to see if Marco is being serious.

                “An eating disorder,” he repeats, louder, “You know, like bulimia, or anorexia.”

                “I know what you mean,” Jean straightens up, “But what exactly made you come to _that_ conclusion?”

                “It’s not a conclusion,” Marco shifts his leg, giving Jean more room on the bed. “But I’ve been doing some thinking. Last time I saw Eren, before we all went to that restaurant together, he looked so healthy, plenty of meat on his bones, you know?”

                “That was _months_ ago,” Jean says.

                “Exactly! And now, when I see him, it’s like I’m looking at a walking skeleton.”

                Jean shudders at the mental image. “But he eats all the time.”

                “Then why is he so skinny?”

                Jean stretches his arms out in front of him. “How the hell should I know?”

                “Jean,” Marco says, “I don’t live with him, so I don’t know what’s going on. But you _do_ live with him _,_ so all I’m asking is that you keep an eye on him. For me.”

                “Hmm,” he responds, lying back down. “Only because you asked me to.”

                “You’re so stubborn.”

                “I know.”

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren stands in front of his closet, mind raking through his choices. He could wear the gray sweatshirt that hasn’t been used in four weeks, the fading image of a band logo printed on it. But he stopped wearing that because he felt it was too tight at the chest. He hadn’t noticed it before, but it became apparent that it didn’t fit when he was dressing himself one day, after having had just downed a whole apple.

                He briefly considers taking on the plain dress shirt he’d bought months ago, and never wore – the thought is quickly dismissed, though, as he remembers that the sleeves only go down to his elbows. He bought a whole collection of long-sleeved shirts for a reason.

                He glances at the clock on his bedside table. 1:32 AM. Jean still isn’t back from Marco’s, leaving Eren to do as he wishes in their dingy apartment. Eren, of course, unable to fall asleep, chooses to mull over what outfit he’ll greet Levi with in the next few hours. He wants something that will look nice on him, something that will conceal his ugliest of parts.

                He owns a fair collection of clothing, but none of them fit just right. They all have one issue or another, and the ones that _do_ fit well are old and worn from constant use. He also can’t just go and steal Jean’s clothing – Eren knows that he won’t be able to fit. The jacket and pants he’d worn were exceptions – the jacket, Eren isn’t even sure if it _is_ Jean’s, and the pants were probably bought several sizes larger than necessary. It’s the only explanation. Eren’s also decided that Levi’s jacket, the one that Eren had borrowed - or, more specifically, Levi had draped over his shoulders - and had completely forgotten to return, was sized wrong and that’s why it doesn’t hug him so tightly. Levi’s short, he obviously doesn’t wear clothing big enough to fit Eren.

                Eren cringes as a wave of hunger hits him again, the second time in the last thirty minutes. He tries to ignore the pain, but it’s overwhelming – his knees start to tremble, and he has to grip the closet door to stay upright. His breathing grows heavy, he feels so weak – as if he might just collapse right then and there.

                He waits, trying to calm himself, clearing his head of his thoughts. A trickle of sweat falls down the side of his face, despite him feeling so _cold._ He curses, going over to sit on the edge of his bed.

                Eren uses to sleeve of his nightshirt to wipe his face. He grabs his bottle of water off of the bedside table and takes hesitant sips. It seems to work, as his breathing steadily returns to normal and his legs stop shaking so harshly.

                He sighs, wrapping a blanket around himself. He feels so pathetic – he can’t even handle a little discomfort. It’s what he goes through, every day, and yet he still feels himself growing weaker each day rather than stronger. Every trip to the gym leaves him sore as fuck, and without even a sign of developing muscle.

                Why is this happening? What’s holding him back from being thin and attractive?

                He feels around under his mattress, hands finding his notebook and the knife beside it. He pulls them both out, setting them on his bed. He thumbs through his notebook, looking at all of the things he’s eaten, all of the times he’s gone over his calorie limit. There are too many days to count – some days are skipped, days where he’s gone without eating at all. Some days are splattered with drops of blood, from when he’d forgotten to shove his notebook away before going to town with the blade to his skin.

                He eyes the knife. He feels drawn to it, like a magnet. So far, nobody’s noticed that he cuts. Nobody’s noticed that he hurts himself, nobody’s seen the bruises and scars on his skin. He intends to keep it that way.

                Eren shoves the notebook back to its original spot, and he grabs the knife, moving his way towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He locks it and bends down to dig through the cabinets for a candle. He finds the one he wants, the one he’s used the past few times he did this.

                He sets it by the bathtub and lights it, using a match that he found in the same cabinet. One candle should suffice, it’s a small room.

                Eren undresses himself, taking off his shirt first, then removing his pants, leaving him alone in his boxers. He tosses the clothing to the side. He then flips the light switch off, and goes to sit in the tub, long legs occupying most of the space around him.

                He takes a deep breath, before holding his arm out and slashing a cut through it, blade weaving its ridged pattern into his skin. It’s long, it extends from the tip of his wrist to the halfway point of his forearm. He makes the mistake of cutting too far up, a small bit of the slice showing on his palm. It’s not bad, though – it can easily be hidden.

                He reels back and slices himself open again, faint pink scars renewing themselves with the hurt of new tears. Blood trickles down his arm, popping up in little beads at first before developing into full-blown streams of liquid, painting his chest and thighs like a canvas.

                Eren tries not to cry, he does – he breathes in heavy breaths, he blinks rapidly to clear his lashes. He can only faintly see the damage he’s doing, as the candle beside him is weak and running out of life. Just like him.

                He’s so disgusted with himself. Everyone around him is so healthy and perfect, they’re so happy and vitalized. And Eren, Eren’s not. He tries to act fine for their sake, but it’s moments like this where life comes crashing down on him all at once in a wave.

                Mikasa and Armin, if they found out that this is what Eren does to himself, what would they say? Eren knows what he would _want_ them to say – he wants them to realize that he’s not worth their time, that they could be bettering themselves doing other things.

                Eren now recognizes that Mikasa and Armin haven’t once talked to him since the day they came to take him out for a movie. They haven’t once tried to communicate with him, no texts, no calls, no anything. Eren can’t blame them – they deserve so, _so_ much better. That’s why they moved away, right? To get away from him? It has to be. There are good colleges near the area that Eren lives in, the only explanation for why they left is that they want to be as far from him as possible.

                More blood coats his arms, and he switches the knife to his other hand to begin working on his right arm. He has fewer cuts on that one, for no reason other than his left hand being the lesser dominant.

                Jean and Marco, if _they_ found out about what Eren’s doing, what might they say? Jean wouldn’t care, obviously. He’d probably just hand Eren another knife and tell him to cut faster. Marco, on the other hand, he might show some concern. But Marco would show concern for anyone, even if it was Satan who was self-harming.

                Levi, Eren thinks, would tell him to knock it off, but Eren knows that he would quickly recover after Eren’s death if he died. Everyone would – he’s surprised that he _hasn’t_ killed himself yet, he knows he deserves it. He deserves it, for being such a disgrace to himself, to his friends, to the world.

                Eren lets out a sob, tears mingling with the blood surrounding him. He can’t do anything right – he can’t lose weight, he can’t make friends, he probably wasn’t even cutting the right way. He’d heard, a long time ago – cut yourself horizontally for attention, vertically for results. It makes it harder for them to save you in time. He doesn’t want to be saved. If Eren’s going to die, he’s going to die, and that is that. Not that anyone would make an effort to save him, anyways.

                He can feel himself going lightheaded, as he adds another cut to his arm. He’s fighting to keep his eyes open, but it’s like he’s falling asleep – odd, since just moments ago he couldn’t drift off no matter what. The blade falls from his hand, landing itself between his thighs with a _clack!_ It shudders for a moment on the bathtub floor, ceramic meeting metal. Eren slumps back, shoulders colliding roughly with the back of the tub. The candle behind him flickers, biting at the last bits of wax left in the jar.

                His vision blurs, and his stomach decides to reject what little food is in it, which is to say, none – Eren pulls himself forward, vomiting up pure stomach acid. His vision blurs, and he starts sweating as though he’d just run a mile.

                He’s not sure what’s going on, but it lasts a fair bit of time – he has not a clue how many minutes have gone and passed before his belly stops folding in on itself, before there’s no more acids being regurgitated brutally out of his mouth.

                Eren sighs, lying against the cool bathroom wall, trying to cool off. He’s experienced this before, the whole vomiting-your-brains-out-after-cutting thing, but he’s never bothered to find out exactly what it is. He squeezes his eyes shut, finally letting sleep overtake him. He doesn’t even care that he should clean up, that can wait until morning. Jean won’t be back before he wakes up. He’s certain of it.

                Eren feels weak, he feels pathetic – but that’s not a foreign feeling to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally split into two chapters, but I merged them together because they were a bit short on their own. So, longer chapter for you guys, yay!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seafood is good for you. Supposedly.

                 “I found something!” Marco exclaims, pulling himself closer to Jean so that their shoulders are touching. He holds up his phone, long paragraphs of words decorating the screen.

                “What, on how to beat this game?” Jean pathetically waves around Marco’s gaming system, white words saying “GAME OVER” being the only thing visible on it.

                “No,” Marco says, using his fingers to zoom in on his phone screen. “On how to figure out if someone has an eating disorder.”

                Jean groans, “Fuck, Marco, I think you’re _way_ too worried.”

                “You honestly don’t think this could be serious?”

                “It _could_ be,” Jean rests his chin against Marco, “But we don’t even know if this is the case.”

                “That’s why I looked this up!” Marco shakes his phone for emphasis.

                Jean, realizing now that there’s no getting out of this, lies back with a sigh. The two are still on Marco’s bed, weary from pulling an all-nighter, in which they played video games nearly the entire time. “Lay it on me,” Jean says.

                “Okay,” Marco says, eyes skimming the webpage before him, trying to get a good idea of what the page is saying. “Does he skip meals?”

                Jean considers this for a moment. Eren eats breakfast, he knows that – he eats at the same time Jean does, when he’s there. They usually sit around, Jean eating his favorite brand of chocolate cereal while Eren has a piece of toast. It’s a small meal, but Jean’s always just assumed that Eren doesn’t eat a lot at that time because he’s not a morning person. Jean’s never seen him eat after breakfast, though, which begs the question – _does_ Eren skip meals? He wants to say no, but only out of pure stubbornness.

                “Maybe,” Jean settles on.

                “He _did_ skip that one meal that we all went out together for,” Marco offers.

                 Jean nods his head, though still in denial. There’s no way that Eren can have an eating disorder. Jean’s never even heard of a _boy_ getting an eating disorder before.

                “Does he usually have a diet soda in hand?” Marco moves on.

                “Nope,” Jean’s quick to say, “I’ve only ever seen him drink water.”

                 Marco looks down at Jean with a thoughtful expression, before turning back to look at his phone again. “Does he wear baggy clothing?”

                 Jean bites his lower lip. “Sometimes,” he says, “It depends.”

                 Marco furrows his eyebrows. “How often does he exercise?”

                “Not sure,” Jean replies, “Like I’ve told you, Marco, I’m always here with you, so I don’t get to see much of him.”

                “Maybe,” Marco starts, “We should start hanging out at _your_ place, then.”

                Jean glares at him. “You really want to? It’s total garbage.”

                “Eren’s always there, though,” Marco retaliates.

                 Jean shrugs his shoulders in silent agreement. He doesn’t believe that Eren can have an eating disorder – he doesn’t _want_ to believe it. Eren looks so content most of the time, the only time that Jean’s ever seen him upset is when he calls him fat.

_When he calls him fat._

                 Eren gets upset when Jean calls him fat. Jean doesn’t want to admit it, but that thought bothers him – he’s always thought that he was being playful, and that Eren goes along with it because he, in turn, always calls Jean “asshole,” “dickbag,” things of that nature. Jean only thought it appropriate to call Eren names in return, names that would hurt him.

                  But what if _Jean_ caused Eren to have an eating disorder?

                  No, Eren doesn’t have an eating disorder. He’s just a weird person. Weird eating habits, weird personality, weird behaviors. Right?

                  Marco, noticing his boyfriend’s strangled expression, grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers. “We can go in the morning,” he says. “Eren doesn’t have any plans for the day, does he?”

                  “He never does,” Jean rolls his eyes. He lets Marco play with his fingers, ready to move on to a different topic of conversation. “So, can you finally just fucking look up how to beat this game?” Jean sits up, grabbing the gaming system from where it rests comfortably on the end of the bed, light on it red from lack of battery.

                   “I’ll look it up if you plug it in to charge,” Marco offers. Jean complies, nodding.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren’s a little more than surprised when he finishes brushing his teeth at the ripe hour of seven and hears the door to his apartment open, leaving the bathroom to be greeted with the bright eyes of Marco.

                Marco walks in with biggest smile Eren’s ever seen spread across his face. Jean trudges in behind him, looking less than happy.

                Eren stands by the bathroom door, having had just gotten dressed for the day. After all of his stressing over what outfit to wear, he finally just decided to keep it simple and wear a plain shirt, jacket, and jeans. Levi’s jacket, from the night before, rests, unfolded, on the edge of Eren’s bed. He had actually considered wearing _that_ jacket, but several things hold him back – one being, he’ll be screwed when Levi asks for it to be returned and he has to show off his repulsive arms, rubbed raw from cutting. Another reason being, he’s not sure that it will still fit him. He’s afraid to check the size on the jacket, knowing that it’s probably going to say something like XXS when Eren likely wears XXL.

                “What are you doing here?” Eren says, a little too harsh, eyeing Jean and Marco suspiciously. Jean never invites anybody over, not even his boyfriend – he’s always too busy going out of his way to express his dislike for the room, the unkempt place that they spend the end of their days in.

                “Oh!” Marco gleefully exclaims, causing Eren to take a step back, “I just wanted to see how much this place has changed.”

                “Ah,” Eren says with a nervous laugh, trying to appear less apprehensive.

                “We also came to make breakfast,” Jean mutters, monotone, as if he’d been told to say that.

                “You came all the way over here for breakfast?” Eren says, clearly not believing a word coming from Jean’s mouth.

                “Yeah, fucking lard butt,” Jean snaps, “Now go sit your ass down and we-“

                 Jean is interrupted when Marco harshly slams his foot down on top of Jean’s, who recoils and moves over to have a seat on his bed. He glares at Eren, seemingly blaming the situation on him.

                Eren, trying to ignore Jean’s comment, pipes up, “Actually, I’m leaving now. I have somewhere to be.”

                “What?” Jean speaks up again in disbelief, apparently having already recovered. “Where the hell are you going?”

                “Somewhere,” Eren repeats, which isn’t a lie – he’s not too sure _where_ he’s going, but if he assumes that Levi’s reliable enough, he’ll be able to figure it out without too much of a struggle.

                “You don’t want breakfast first?” Marco asks, giving puppy eyes. Eren ignores them.

                “No,” he says, “I just used mouthwash, and you’re supposed to wait thirty minutes before eating after using that.”

                “I didn’t know that,” Jean mutters, looking surprised. Eren always knew Jean can be dumb, but this is a new low for him. He knits his eyebrows together.

                Eren grabs Levi’s jacket off of his bed and scoots beside Marco - ignoring Marco’s protests – and makes his way out the door. It’s an odd encounter – Jean hasn’t had anyone over in so long. But Eren decides not to mull it over; he’s already had enough things plaguing his mind today.

                Eren heads down the barren hallway, feet making soft echoes off the walls. He’s only ever met a few of his neighbors, but he doesn’t know enough about any of them to call them his friends. He’s talked to several of them a few times – though only to say a hello, or to settle out a certain noise complaint ordered by a very serious blond man whose name Eren vaguely remembers as ‘Reiner.’ The guy looked like he lived in the barbell section of the gym, he had so many muscles.

                The noise complaint wasn’t even anything serious – it happened just after Eren had an argument with Jean over who got the last piece of cake after a birthday party, and they got a little bit too into it. But, of course, that was before Eren stopped eating. That was before he realized how hideous he is.

                Eren goes down the steps slowly, careful to hit each stair with precision. His legs still feel weak, his arms still sting from earlier. His knees tremble, and he attributes it to his hefty weight. He’s just amazed that they decided to wait until _now_ to start acting up.

                He had woken up, only thirty minutes after having had passed out this morning, blood drying on his broken wrists. Still sluggish, he managed to scrub the liquid off of himself and the bathtub, making sure to spray air freshener all across the room to remove the musk of fresh iron out of the air. He spent time, after that, trying to distract himself from the pain. From dressing, to brushing his hair, to bathing, to reading from his new favorite blog – the one where he had found the gif motivating him not to eat at.

                Eren walks outside, cool winds creating goosebumps on his hands. He snuggles into his jacket, considering putting on Levi’s jacket for extra warmth, but decides against it, remembering once again that he’s not worthy of such luxuries.

                He pauses by a bush with newly blossomed flowers, the only thing saving his apartment complex from actually _being_ a landfill. It’s a dull green, but in comparison, it truly lights up the place.

                Eren glances around, but his eyes don’t catch sight of Levi. He sees a petite woman with strawberry blonde hair, she’s watering the bushes. She must be the reason the bushes bloomed so early in spring. Eren feels a little bad for her, she shouldn’t be wasting her time trying to save something beyond repair.

                Eren starts walking again, until he’s reached the edge of the sidewalk, one inch away from being on the street, in way of fast traffic. He’s never once considered jumping into the ever-present speeding of cars before him, which almost surprises him – he’s only ever pictured his early death as something caused by hunger or blood loss.

                If Eren kills himself now, how might that change things? If Levi shows up, would he get to see Eren’s entrails splayed across the road, and would he even care? Would Jean or Marco peer out the window and be met by an eyeful of Eren’s remains, coating the sidewalk and washing down the storm drains? Who would tell Mikasa and Armin of his death? They probably would rather not know about it, and move on with the rest of their lives without the knowledge of their childhood friend being squashed to bits by a truck.

                Eren wants to, he wants to end it all right now. It scares him, the fact that he is, for once, actually thinking about suicide. He’s always passed off his cutting as a way to cope, as a way to punish. But now, he’s starting to believe that the only punishment left for him is death. Cutting isn’t working, starving himself isn’t working. Death is his last option.

                Eren’s tired – he’s tired of being gross, he’s tired of being fat, he’s tired of being unwanted, he’s tired of being a monster. He’s always considered himself a determined person, working hard to get what he desires. But never, in his life, has he been met with such an unattainable goal as this one - allure. He’s been able to achieve fair grades in school through studying, he’s been able to drag himself through last minute presentations through fast research. Eren likes having goals to work towards. But he can’t stand the thought that his ultimate goal, the only one that’s ever mattered, is the only one that he just can’t do.

                He’s about the step forward, he’s about to enter the cold clutches of death, when he’s suddenly interrupted by a voice behind him.

                “Hey, brat,” the voice says.

                Eren whips around, heart forgetting to beat. “Oh,” he breathes, “Hey.”

                “I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” Levi asks.

                “Not at all,” Eren steps towards Levi, leaving behind his dark thoughts. “I just got here, sir.”

                “Funny coincidence. And don’t call me sir,” Levi remarks, looking utterly unamused.

                “Yeah, sorry,” Eren says, voice small. He wraps his arms around himself, Levi’s jacket carefully placed against his chest. He’s nervous – he just met Levi several days ago, and yet the man has already called Eren beautiful twice now. That’s more than he’s ever heard that word directed towards him in the past ten years of his life. He can’t help but feel like Levi’s winning him over, and he prays that Levi has good intentions behind his romantic mask.

                “Follow me,” Levi waves Eren over. Eren complies, and they begin walking.

                “Your jacket!” Eren exclaims, suddenly remembering that he should return said item to its true owner. He shoves the clothing a little too forcefully towards Levi, though Levi doesn’t seem to even need a jacket. He looks content, despite wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt.

                Levi eyes the jacket being handed to him, shifting his sights from it to Eren several times before saying, “Keep it.”

                _Keep it_? Eren’s mind immediately assumes the worst – Levi is saying that because he’s repulsed at the very thought of having to make contact with something that Eren’s hambeast, sweaty skin has made contact with. But in that very same thought, memories of the night before, when Levi had gone so far as to press his palm to Eren’s puffy cheek flashes through his mind. Not even just that – Levi had pressed his lips to Eren’s lips, his sweet, cherry flavored lips to Eren’s unappealing, chapped ones.

                He still feels the tingle of Levi’s lips to his, a saccharine tingle compared to the stinging on his cut wrists. Eren takes a deep breath, trying to calm his beating heart, wanting to protest Levi’s gift of his jacket, but also wanting to accept it, to prevent himself from burdening the man even further with his pigheadedness.

                “Hey,” Levi says, taking Eren back into the real world, “Let’s play a game.”

                “A game?” Eren asks. Levi doesn’t look like the kind of guy who likes games at all.

                “Yeah,” he confirms. “I ask you a question, you answer. Then, you ask _me_ a question, and _I_ answer. It’s a way to get to know each other a little better.”

                Eren nods. He _does_ want to learn more about the man beside him, especially considering the fact that the two had locked lips less than twenty-four hours ago. “Kind of like Jeopardy?”

                Levi’s eyebrows perk up, in what can only be assumed as a surprised expression. “No, it’s nothing like Jeopardy,” he laughs softly.

                Eren feels embarrassment constricting his chest. He’s never actually bothered to learn how Jeopardy is played, so he doesn’t understand why Levi finds his confusion so amusing. “Oh,” Eren deflates, “Sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize,” Levi simply says, “I think it’s kind of cute, your naivety.”

                Eren can feel his face flood with a blush, red covering his cheeks like a blanket. Damn this guy, for making Eren actually feel sort of _good_ about himself. He doesn’t deserve it.

                “I’ll start,” Levi chimes in, “Question one. How old are you?”

                Eren keeps stride with Levi’s quick pace as the two travel down the sidewalk, the only noise around them being the engines of passing cars and the footsteps of fellow pedestrians. “Nineteen,” Eren says.

                “Mm. So you’re legal.”

                Eren looks over to see that Levi’s smirking. He wasn’t sure it was possible, but his blush increases with a fire, decorating his face like a cake.

                “Um,” Eren tries to change the subject, “My turn?”

                “Is that your question?” Levi’s smirk doesn’t falter.

                “No, no,” Eren waves his hand as if to remove the very thought from the air, “Question two. How old are _you_?”

                “Too old for my own good,” Levi sighs, “I’m thirty-four.”

                “Holy fuck,” Eren utters before realizing how rude it sounds. “I-I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly, “I’m just amazed-“

                “It’s fine,” Levi interrupts. Eren hushes. “Question three,” Levi moves on, “What’s your favorite color?”

                “Gray,” Eren says without even a second thought.

                “Bit of an odd choice,” Levi remarks, “Rather bland, I might say.”

                “Maybe I’m just a rather bland person,” Eren shrugs. In truth, he has so many reasons for why gray is his favorite color, it would take a lifetime to list off. From the way that gray reminds him of the monotony of his life, to the way it reminds him of his childhood, days spent looking into the eyes of Mikasa as she proceeded to beat up anybody who so much as looked at Eren the wrong way.

                Levi doesn’t respond to Eren’s comment, so he moves on. “Question four,” Eren says, “What’s _your_ favorite color?”

                “Are you ever going to come up with your own questions?” Levi glances his way.

                “Hey,” Eren smiles, teasingly, “It’s my turn to ask the question, not yours.”

                “Fine,” Levi backs down, “I quite like the color green.”

                “Why?”

                “One question per turn,” Levi reminds him. Eren groans.

                “Question five,” Levi says, “What’s your favorite kind of flower?”

                Eren knits his eyebrows together. That’s an odd inquiry – he’s never really thought about it before.

                “Um, I’m not sure,” Eren mumbles. He loves nature, he loves plants, but to choose a favorite? He’d never so much as considered it, in all his years.

                “Maybe we should find out then,” Levi says, turning his head to smirk at Eren. Eren cocks his head, unsure of what Levi’s trying to imply.

                “What-“

                “No more questions,” Levi interrupts, “For now.”

                Levi leads Eren down a series of winding paths, Eren trying several times to convince himself to speak up and make conversation, but failing each time due to lack of confidence. Every time he opens his mouth, his throat dries.

                They pass by a park, they pass by an abandoned diner, they pass by a perfume store that smells like teenage girls and Starbucks – Eren focuses his eyes on his surroundings, mind going through a continuous cycle of wanting to say something and then deciding that it wouldn’t be smart to do such. Levi looks pleased just as he is, roaming by Eren in an earsplitting silence.

                Levi eventually stops, after what must’ve been miles upon miles of walking. In front of Eren stands a flower shop, roses and tulips budding from every surface. Flower petals lay spread across the welcome mat by the front door, an aroma of freshly watered plants fills the air. Eren can’t help but love it – he’s always found a sort of joy in admiring the beautiful things of life.

                “Here we are,” Levi says, confirming that this is, in fact, their destination.

                “What are we doing here?” Eren inquires. Obviously Levi had planned to take Eren here, otherwise he wouldn’t have known the exact path to go down. Would he? Perhaps Levi is just a connoisseur of the city, knowing the ins and outs of it by heart. That wouldn’t explain why he brought up the subject of flowers in the first place, however, when they were playing their question game.

                Levi doesn’t answer Eren, instead pressing his hand to his upper back, right square between his shoulder blades. He leads Eren into the shop.

                A man with a poorly done undercut greets them, fluffy hair bouncing as he lifts his head to look at them. This man, he couldn’t possibly look more bored with his life.

                “Welc- Oh, it’s just you,” the man says, slumping back into his seat by a desk, an array of flowers in front of him.

                “No need to get too excited, Oluo,” Levi replies sarcastically.

                “Petra won’t be in today,” the man apparently named Oluo sighs, a far off look in his eyes. “She says she’s out ‘bettering the community,’ whatever that means.”

                Eren’s not sure what the fuck the two men are talking about, or who Petra is, but they get lost in their talking, so he takes the opportunity to slip away and browse the aisles. His feet move of their own volition, leading him down row after row of plants, fingers delicately running over different petals and feeling their textures.

                How can Levi expect Eren to decide on just one flower? Every single one of them is beautiful, in their own way. He loves even the wrinkly ones, the ones browning at the edges from neglect. Their scents mingle together, creating a sense of tranquility like no other.

                Why can’t Eren be like a flower? Why can’t he be pretty, why can’t he be wanted? Why can’t he be the one who lights up the room when he walks in, why can’t he be the lone star in someone’s night sky?

                Eren looks over at Levi – he’s still bantering with the man named Oluo, who has an odd smirk on his face. He side-glances at Eren a few times, though Levi never looks his way.

                Eren wonders, what does Levi truly think of him? Levi’s a peculiar man – Eren can’t seem to figure out his motives. Just what _does_ Eren mean to Levi? Is he something sought after, or is he a mere burden? He feels like the latter. People don’t usually flirt with Eren. They just stare, they just make fun of him.

                 Is that what Levi’s doing? Making fun of him? Eren feels his chest start to ache – he doesn’t want Levi taking him out because of a dare, because of pity, because of any reason other than genuine want. But Eren knows that nobody wants him. Nobody’s ever wanted him.

                Levi treats him so kindly, though. From an outside point of view, one might see the two as head-over-heels for each other, Levi being a Prince Charming to Eren, a damsel in distress. But one can’t just see the turmoil Eren faces on a daily basis, his struggling to even get out of bed each morning.

                He looks back down at the flowers in front of him. A small label beside a pot reads “Hibiscus Flowers.”

                Eren reaches out, gently fingering the limp leaves of the wilting bouquet. These flowers are weak compared to the others – they aren’t nearly as full, and anybody would look over them without a second glance. They’re pale, they’re dying – Eren, however, immediately falls in love with them.

                “Those are nice,” a rich voice says. Eren looks up and meets eyes with Levi, and he can’t help but wonder when the man had walked over.

                “You think so?” Eren asks.

                “I do,” Levi nods, “Don’t you?”

                Eren nods back, eyes wandering back down to the flowers. The hibiscus flowers are an array of colors, but none of them are striking enough to catch someone’s eye. They’re wrinkled, and half of the flowers are missing so many petals that it’s a wonder if they can still be called as such.

                “I think they would look even nicer if they were on you, however,” Levi murmurs from across him.

                Eren looks back up and blushes. He quickly clamps a sleeved hand over his jaw to hide his red cheeks. “I’m sorry?”

                “Here,” Levi says. He motions Eren over to his side of the table, and Eren nervously pads his way over, legs trembling ever-so-slightly. He seats himself on a stool, making him just an inch shorter than Levi.

                Levi turns and clips off a flower from the pot that Eren had just been admiring. He picks out the brightest one of the bundle. It’s the only one that could possibly have had a chance of survival, and Levi just tore it from its roots.

                The man cleans off the severed plant, wiping the dirt and grime off of it. He then pulls Eren’s hair back and tucks it behind his ear, clearing the loose hairs away from his face.

                Levi holds up the flower, positioning the stem just right before placing it in Eren’s hair. He feels the stem pressing to his head, resting comfortably on the top of his ear, but still tight, as though it could potentially stay there forever.

                “You don’t mind, do you?” Levi asks.

                Eren shakes his head. No, he _doesn’t_ mind.

                He’d hate to admit it, but it makes him feel almost special. Almost as if Levi actually cares about Eren, almost as if he actually means something to someone.

                Sure, Mikasa and Armin say they care about him. But they’d never treat him like _this._ Levi, he showers Eren in such a way that he almost would dare to say that he wants more. More of the gifts, more of the caring, more of the joy that resonates in his chest when Levi touches him.

                Levi runs a porcelain finger through Eren’s hair, twisting around the ends with a slight tug, soft hums escaping his lips. “Would you like a mirror?”

                Eren shakes his head again, but with less force. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment, and he quite likes the way that Levi’s hand feels.

                “Hey, asshole,” the guy from before, Oluo, calls, visibly upset. He’s holding a rusty watering can and his apron’s left untied. “You have to _pay_ for that before you go fucking it up, you can’t just steal my flowers like that, don’t you know how hard I worked on those? What if I was saving those for someone? What if those were-“

                “Shut _up,_ Oluo,” Levi interrupts. His eyes don’t leave Eren’s face, until he turns just a moment later to say, “How much did you want for them?”

                Oluo goes on a rampage, ignoring Levi’s question. He switches topics at the speed of lightning, going from telling Levi off for destroying his property, to complaining about the very essence of Levi’s existence. Levi seems unfazed by this, expression unchanging as he lets Oluo let out his rage. Eren wishes he were as strong as Levi – if it were him and Jean in this situation, Jean being the one erupting like a volcano, Eren would take his words to heart. But Levi, he doesn’t even seem to give a fuck about what Oluo is saying to him.

                Eren is also silently grateful that Oluo is ignoring Levi’s question, because Eren would hate for Levi to have to spend even _more_ on his useless ass than he has thus far.

                 “Tu as de beaux cheveux,” Levi murmurs, turning back to Eren, Oluo not even noticing that he’s being ignored. “Tu sais?”

                “I’m sorry?” Eren voices back.

                “You have beautiful hair, you know?” Levi responds, adding, “In fact, I’d say it’s some of the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.”

                Eren flushes. He opens his mouth, but he has no idea what to say.

                “You’re a real bastard, you know that?” Oluo shouts from across the shop. “Are you even listening?”

                Levi sends a halfhearted glare his way. He looks over at Eren one more time before heading off to appease the unhappy Oluo.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “So,” Eren says, walking alongside Levi as they make their way down the sidewalk, having had just left the flower shop, “Where to now?”

                “It’s around midday,” Levi says, looking down at his watch, “So I suggest we stop somewhere to eat. Sound nice?”

                Eren doesn’t respond, and Levi can’t help but peer over at the boy. He’s wringing his hands together, arms huddled close to his body. Eren’s been acting like he’s always so cold, but the temperature outside is fairly warm. Not a single person that they’ve passed throughout the whole day has been grasping for heat like Eren has. Levi wishes the boy would just wrap the jacket Levi gave him around himself instead of acting like it doesn’t even exist.

                Levi silently hopes for Eren to remember the jacket hanging from his arm, and that he’ll curl up into it like he had the other day, at the movie theater. He looked so _adorable,_ and Levi’s not even going to reprimand himself for thinking so.

                “What’s your favorite thing to eat?” Levi asks, and it’s hard to miss the way Eren’s cheeks grow a light pink. Levi might even say that he looks nervous, but why should he be uneasy? It’s not a hard question to answer.

                “I- I’m fine with anything,” Eren says, “I’m really not hungry right now, though.”

                Levi gives him an grievous look, saying, “You’re never hungry.”

                “I eat a lot in the mornings, so-“

                “So, what,” Levi inquires, “Do you always skip lunch?”

                Eren looks down. “I don’t skip lunch, I just-“

                “Then we’re going out to eat,” Levi interrupts, turning his head forward again.

                “You’re awfully pushy,” Eren mutters. Levi ignores him.

                Eren walks just a step behind Levi, and Levi guides him down a path that Levi’s only traveled a few times. The rest of their travel is silent, the only noises being the sound of happy pedestrians jogging by them, the occasional honking of an impatient car, and the chiming of doors opening and closing around them. Levi edges closer to Eren, making himself just close enough that he could grab Eren’s arm if he needs to. He doesn’t know why, but he feels that he’s obligated to do so. He can’t have Eren running away from him, and he certainly can’t stand the idea of the boy trying to distance himself from Levi.

                Levi stops at the entrance to a small, rundown diner, the outer walls painted a dull blue. Above the front door hangs a sign with the picture of a crab and the restaurant’s name on it, and Levi can tell that they haven’t bothered renovating in many years. Still, he knows of this place from the same person whom never shuts her mouth, from the same person who has informed him of countless things that he probably shouldn’t know about – Hanji.

                Hanji’s told him about this diner, she’s told him that they serve the best seafood she’s ever encountered. Levi’s always brushed her words off, assuming that she’s just saying that, as she does with a lot of things that are ‘the best she’s ever encountered.’ But, Levi knows that one day he’s going to be forced to try it, and what better time than now, when he’s paired with the most beautiful creature to walk the Earth since Cleopatra?

                Levi takes a step up, turning around to hold out his hand for Eren. The boy looks at it, obviously debating whether or not he should take it – but Levi wins, in the end, when Eren allows the man to grip his pale hand around Eren’s thin one. Levi leads Eren up the few steps leading to the front door, and maybe, just maybe, he keeps holding onto the boy’s hand even after they enter.

                Levi takes control, ordering the table for the two, politely demanding a seat near the windows – if that first day that Levi saw Eren is anything to go by, Eren is absolutely stunning when the light hits him just right, and Levi wouldn’t mind seeing that sight just a few more times.

                He doesn’t release Eren’s hand until they’re seated across from each other, and Levi mentally notes that Eren didn’t put up too much of a fight when it came to having his hand held.

                “Um,” Eren speaks up, fingers curling around the end of his menu but never actually opening it, “Why did you pick _this_ place?”

                Levi looks up at him, and yep, he definitely made the right choice in asking for a window seat. The sun sends shadows over Eren’s face, highlighting the green of his eyes and the tan of his skin.

                “Hanji,” Levi replies simply, and Eren’s shoulders slump.

                “Hanji seems to have a lot of influence over you,” Eren remarks.

                Levi considers this for a moment, before saying, “No, she just never shuts up. Some of what she says sticks with me, though.” He tries to suppress the smile that attempts to paint his face when Eren’s laughing decorates the air.

                “What are you going to order?” Eren asks, biting his lower lip. Levi sets his menu down in front of him, having merely glanced over the options.

                “Ah, I think I’ll keep it simple. Maybe just a plain fillet,” he shrugs, “But what about you?”

                Eren’s eyes flutter up and down for a moment, hesitation clear. But then he releases his lip and says, “I think I’ll just have what you’re having.”

                Levi nods. “What about your drink?”

                “Water,” Eren answers, looking down at the table, mindlessly drawing circles on it with his index finger, his other arm propping him up.

                “You quite like water,” Levi remarks.

                “I just think it tastes good.”

                “Do you?” Levi raises his eyebrows. He’s not sure that anybody’s ever told him that they enjoy water for the taste. “Reminds me of a certain French saying.”

                “Ah?” Eren looks up, eyes widening slightly. “What is it?”

                “Je vis d'amour et d'eau fraîche,” Levi responds, “I live on love and fresh water.”

                “I like it,” Eren says, voice soft. “I like when you talk in French,” he adds, even lower, and Levi’s glad that the diner isn’t packed, or else he might’ve missed what Eren just said.

                “I quite like you,” Levi murmurs back, blinking when Eren’s face turns the deepest red he’s ever seen.

                A woman walks up to them then, a nice but straightforward young woman with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She takes their order with enthusiasm, skipping off towards who-knows-where after jotting down their requests.

                Levi attempts to keep up the small talk between the two as they wait, asking Eren small questions, from details like what his favorite book is, to discussions like what music Eren leans towards.

                “I fucking love traveling,” Eren gushes, when Levi brings up the topic of what Eren sees for his future. “I would do it more often, but you know. No money.” He waves his hand around, as if to mimic holding nonexistent dollar bills.

                “I could probably help you with that,” Levi says, “Give me a few months and perhaps I could build up enough money to take you somewhere. Any place in particular?”

                Eren shakes his head, “No, you don’t have to do that. But- I mean- If you really _want_ to,” he gives Levi a sly grin, “I think Paris would be a good choice. You speak French, so you could tell me what the fuck everybody’s saying.” He laughs.

                Levi gives a chuckle in response. “Not a bad idea.”

                Their conversation ends there when the young woman, their waitress, returns, plates in hand and drinks around her arms. She nearly tosses everything on the table, giving the two a salute and heading off to deliver some other poor sap their meal.

                Levi wants to recoil when he sees his fish, it’s absolutely repulsive – they took his offer a little too literally when he asked for a ‘plain fillet.’ But he supposes he can’t complain – all they did was follow his request.

                He looks over at Eren as he grabs his fork, and even _he_ looks uncertain. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his nudges the fish with the end of his fork. Levi decides to offer him some sort of comfort by taking the first bite.

                Surprisingly, despite its horrid appearance, it’s not bad – the texture is off, the wrinkles of the fish making it taste funny, but the rest of it’s fairly decent. Hanji must not go to a lot of seafood places, though, if _this_ is what she considers to be the best.

                Eren eyes his plate, before cutting off a piece of fish and consuming it. He chews it slowly, before swallowing and going in for another bite.

                Levi eats significantly faster, though that can only be said because Eren eats like a fucking snail. He nibbles at the food, vision glued to it as if he were forcing down kryptonite. It’s not a bad sight, Levi might even go so far as to say that Eren’s cute when he eats, but he can’t think of a time that Eren _didn’t_ look cute.

                “Can you stop staring at me?” Eren blurts, and it’s only then that Levi realizes that he’s been reluctant to even blink.

                “Hm,” Levi brushes it off nonchalantly, “I like watching you eat, though.”

                Eren narrows his eyes, lowering his fork. “That’s weird.”

                Levi shrugs. He notices that Eren starts fidgeting, wiping his forehead and visibly uncomfortable.  The flower in his hair sags, covering part of his ear.

                “Are you okay?” Levi asks, putting down his own fork.

                Eren nods. Levi doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t try to fight him over it.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “Now what?” Jean groans, flopping onto his bed.

                “I should be asking you that,” Marco mutters, “ _You_ were the one who said that Eren didn’t have any plans today.”

                Marco goes to stand by the front door, kicking aside a discarded paper bag filled with unknown contents. He looks down at Jean, who’s staring at the ceiling like he’s just given up on life.

                “He never does,” Jean says, “I don’t know why he’s suddenly so popular.”

                “Maybe he’s got a girlfriend,” Marco raises his eyebrows.

                “He’s gay as fuck,” Jean shoots down the idea, throwing an arm halfheartedly over his eyes.

                “I’m letting you live with a gay guy?” Marco’s expression changes to one of absolute bewilderment.

                Jean flashes Marco an unenthusiastic smirk, saying, “ _Letting_ me? I started living with him before I started dating you.”

                “You guys didn’t-“ Marco starts.

                “No,” Jean interrupts, not liking where this conversation’s going.

                “Not even once?”

                “Never,” Jean rolls his eyes, “Why would we? I don’t even like him.”

                Marco sighs, removing himself from his spot on the wall to start pacing around what little free space is in the room. “I wish you’d stop saying that.”

                “Stop saying what?” Jean watches as Marco leans over to pick up Jean’s clothing off the floor and start folding it.

                “That you don’t like him,” Marco replies, opening Jean’s closet door. He starts putting up the clothing, tossing aside the shirts that are obviously Eren’s.

                “Why?” Jean sits up, crossing his legs over each other.

                “Have you ever thought that, maybe, it hurts him?” Marco questions, holding up a blue sweater, trying to decipher who it belongs to. He ends up throwing it to the side, where he’s started stacking Eren’s clothing.

                “Huh?” Jean scrunches his nose, “ _Hurts_ him? He says that shit to _me_ all the time though.”

                Marco glares at him. “So? You should try to be the bigger person.”

                Jean shuts his eyes, wanting to end the conversation. He’s had enough of the whole let’s-talk-about-Eren-all-the-time game that Marco’s been playing with him, and the idea that he might’ve caused Eren to have an eating disorder – no, he definitely did _not –_ is not sitting well with him.

                Marco, on the other hand, has different plans. “Maybe _I_ should talk to him.”

                “Be my guest,” Jean waves his hand pathetically, eyes opening back up. His boyfriend has successfully cleared one of the many stacks of clothing that had been piling up for months, and Jean’s tempted to give him a pat on the back for it.

                “You don’t think he’ll get upset?” Marco asks, “I tried to talk to him about it when we were going mini golfing, he was kind of reluctant.”

                “Mm,” Jean hums, “What happened?”

                “I just asked him something like, ‘Eren, how did you get so thin,’ and the look he gave me was murderous.”

                “Yeah,” Jean sighs, “He’s sensitive about that.”

                Marco pauses in the midst of sorting through clothing. He looks up at Jean, brows furrowed and eyes wide. He goes over to his boyfriend, nearly tripping over himself, and grabs his arm, shaking it.

                “Jean,” Marco gasps, “That’s it, that’s it, Eren _definitely_ has an eating disorder! There’s no denying it now, it all makes sense!”

                “No, he doesn’t,” Jeans roughly pulls himself away from Marco’s grip, “It _doesn’t_ make sense, and you’re fucking crazy.”

                “Jean,” Marco moans, “What if he does? We _have_ to ask him, what if he dies? He could be damaging himself beyond repair!”

                “He’s not,” Jean barks, “He’s not that _stupid._ ”

                Marco stops assaulting Jean and resigns himself to going back and folding clothes. Jean throws himself on his stomach, ready to let sleep take over him, despite it still being light outside. Jean’s trying so hard not to think about it, but the guilt nearly eats him alive. Eren could be dying, and it’d be all his fault. Eren, the boy who used to come up to him in black yoga pants and loose tank tops, the boy who used to take selfies as if they were the thing keeping him going in life. Looking back at it, Eren’s changed a ton – now, he roams around in loose sweaters and what used to be tight pants, and Jean hasn’t seen him take a picture of himself in months.

                Marco’s too good for him, he’s too smart. If Marco weren’t here, Jean might’ve never found out about Eren possibly hurting himself. He would’ve never figured out that Eren could be in pain, and he would’ve never understood that he’d be the reason behind Eren dying.

                Jean rolls over, putting his back to Marco. He knows Marco’s eager to push the subject further, he’s probably mulling it over in his head, trying to figure out how to further persuade Jean to investigate the matter. But Jean doesn’t need persuasion – he might not tell him, but he’ll definitely be there when Marco confronts Eren, and for once, he might not try to start a fight with Eren.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unlucky number 13?

                “Is that him?” Marco whispers, hands curled around Jean’s shoulders as the blond peers out from behind the counter separating the core of the apartment from the kitchen.

                “No,” Jean says, not bothering to whisper. “Marco, why are we hiding-“

                “Shh!” Marco hushes him, squeezing his shoulders. “I think I heard footsteps.”

                “That could be anyone. The walls are thin as, fucking, I don’t know, paper.”

                Marco lets go of Jean, and the two slowly rise to their feet. Marco’s on edge, unsure of how he should approach Eren with the matter at hand – he went from being perched by the door, ready to spring onto the boy when he arrives, to hiding with Jean behind a counter, as if that would honestly change the way Eren reacts to being bombarded with questions.

                Marco leans forward on the counter, resting his chin on his arms. Jean stands next to him, eyes averted, taking noticeable interest in the walls.

                The two freeze and give each other worried looks when they hear the front door being opened. Jean tries his hardest to appear unconcerned, but his eyebrows move of their own volition, furrowing and willing his eyes open wide.

                The door opens slowly, and Eren comes in, setting a jacket and a flower on his bed before finally seeing Marco and Jean staring at him.

                “Can I help you?” Eren asks, not understanding why he’s being watched like he’s an alien from Mars.

                “Um,” Marco drawls out, lifting his head, “I- Um- Jean. Jean has something to ask you.”

                “I do?” Jean glares at his boyfriend.

                “You do.”

                “Uh,” Jean utters, frantically looking between Marco and an unimpressed Eren.

                Marco, manning up after a moment of watching Jean struggle, takes the initiative by going over to Eren. He sits down on his bed, patting the spot in front of him for Eren to take a seat. He complies, and Jean trails over, standing nearby.

                “I don’t really know how to ask this,” Marco mutters. He sends one more look to Jean, who’s fixated on the hem of his shirt. “But, Eren, are you okay?”

                “What do you mean?” Eren asks. He reaches a hand up to nervously scratch the back of his neck, sleeve falling down just far enough to expose the sharp bones of his hand and part of a cut on his wrist. Marco shrugs it off, assuming that he probably just tripped and scratched himself. It wouldn’t surprise Marco, the apartment is littered with so much garbage that he’s stunned that he hasn’t found a dead body in there yet.

                “I mean, are you feeling well? Are you healthy?” Marco asks, reaching out a hand to grip Eren’s knee. Eren pulls back from him.

                “Of course,” Eren says, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

                “Have you seen yourself?” Jean pipes up, “Fucking hell.”

                “I have,” Eren growls, “I don’t need you to remind me.”

                “Remind you of what?” Marco questions, trying to get more out of Eren.

                “I’m leaving,” Eren resigns, getting up. Marco tries to stop him, but Eren hurries out the door without looking back.

                “Oh god,” Marco whispers. “Oh god,” he repeats, louder this time.

                “What?” Jean says.

                “Jean,” Marco flops forward, burying his face in the mattress. “’id yoo see dat? He wah-“

                “Lift your head,” Jean sits next to his boyfriend, “I have no idea what you just said.”

                Marco does as he’s told, head up. “Did you see that? He’s, he, Jean, we can’t just sit back anymore. We have to _help_ him.”

                “How?”

                Marco digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “I’ll start looking up ways to fix him, you start trying to call him and make sure he’s not too upset.”

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren feels the tears welling up behind his eyelids, daring to perch themselves precariously on the edge. He has to reach up and wipe his cheeks as he fast-walks out of the apartment complex, unsure of where he’s going.

                He’s already been feeling like shit today. Sure, he went out with Levi, Levi had treated him so well. Eren doesn’t deserve the sort of treatment Levi gave him.

                But Eren, he always knew he couldn’t keep up his goal of not eating for a week. He always knew he’d end up giving in, whether it be by peer pressure or his own pressure, and now he wants to throw up because of it. Now, Jean and Marco are concerned because he’s so fucking _fat_ that they feel the need to step in.

How many calories were in that simple dish he had at the seafood restaurant? He’d tried to subtly look it up, but Levi kept peering over at him every time he looked down at his phone. Levi had also made sure that Eren ate every single bite of his meal, encouraging him to finish it long after Eren had expressed his fullness.

                Fucking Marco. If Marco weren’t here, Jean wouldn’t give a shit about Eren being unhealthy. Marco, he just _has_ to step in, he just _has_ to help. Eren doesn’t want help. He can do this on his own. He’s been _trying_ to do this on his own, starving himself, curling into a ball and falling asleep whenever hunger tries to take over him.

                Eren exits the apartment complex, noticing how barren the front lawn is, the strawberry blonde girl from earlier gone. He continues to walk, starting down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of where he and Levi had walked earlier that day.

                Few people are on the street today, few cars pass him, and for that, Eren’s grateful. He knows his face is probably red, and from the few glances he’s seen of himself in the windows of passing shops, his eyes are gross and puffy. He wraps his arms around his gut, trying to hide the weight he’s gained, but he knows it’s not working. Nothing ever works for him.

                A sob escapes his throat without permission, and he glances around to make sure nobody heard it. A few people pass him, but nobody spares him a second look.

                Eren isn’t worthy of a friend like Marco, and he certainly doesn’t have the grace to go to outings with a man like Levi. He doesn’t even merit the concern of Jean, a man who, while he always throws Eren under the bus, isn’t necessarily _wrong_ about the things he talks about. He talks straight out of his ass all the time, and Eren takes his bullshit to heart.

                He feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket, and he chooses to ignore it. He can’t talk to anyone right now.  He’s too much of a mess, he’s almost certain that if he even so much as opens his mouth, he’ll melt into a puddle of tears.

                Eren’s never been outside of his room when his emotions have decided to come at him this in the past, so now that he’s here, he has no idea what to do. Does he find a public bathroom to hide in? Does he cry to himself in an alleyway? Or does he just keep walking like this, head down and snuggling into himself?

                His phone stops buzzing, only to start again soon after. He’s tempted to throw it on the ground and smash it to pieces, who the fuck is calling him? Probably just a telemarketer. Nobody else would waste their time on him.

                Tears start to fall down his face at a rapid speed, so he buries his face in his hands and keeps walking. It doesn’t matter that he looks like shit right now. He always looks like shit.

                Everything looks so alluring right now, all of the rooftops that he could jump off of, all of the cars speeding down the highway that are begging to run over something. He can’t say he’d be upset if someone just came out and stabbed him right now, he knows for a fact that he wants to hurt himself anyways.

                Eren lifts his head only when he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt, and he turns around to be met with the big blue eyes of a blonde girl. She’s wearing a simple outfit, a skirt that touches her knees and a plain button-up shirt. Behind her stands a taller woman, obviously accompanying her but not bothering to actually look at Eren.

                “Hey,” she says, voice like velvet, “Are you okay?”

                Eren looks at her for a brief moment. She looks trustworthy, her soft features radiating like a goddess. But Eren can’t just give up his life story to a stranger, even if said stranger _looks_ kind.

                “I am,” he nods. She lets go of his shirt.

                “Are you sure?” she pushes, egging him to reveal himself to her.

                “I am,” Eren repeats, taking a step back to try to indicate that he’s ready to leave.

                The girl looks uncertain, eyes skimming over his face, but she lets Eren go. She retreats into her accomplice, who sets a hand on the girl’s shoulder as the two walk away.

                Does Eren really look _that_ bad? Does he really look so pathetic that someone actually felt to need to stop him and ask how he’s doing?

                He turns onto another sidewalk, not even sure where he’s at anymore. Everything looks vaguely familiar, but it’s hard to see through glassy eyes. He wants to check and see if Jean and Marco are still in his room, but what if they are? What then? He’s not sure he can handle another run-in with them, not now. They know too much, _Marco_ knows too much. He’s probably figured out by now that Eren’s removed himself from the concept of eating, and even though he’s flabby as fuck, Marco’s going to be the one to try to push him towards better eating habits. But Eren doesn’t want to eat, not until he’s thin. Not until he’s capable of being wanted by someone.

                His phone stops buzzing. He slides it out of his pocket, seeing nine missed calls from Jean. He sighs. Marco probably put him up to it.

                Eren sets his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode, hoping that will deter Jean from his incessant calling. He takes this opportunity to turn on WiFi, data plan be damned. He opens up the Google app again, going back to the blog he’d found several days ago. It’s been updated – new pictures load, some of them feature a girl with writing all over her body, some feature plain text over a black-and-white photo. He scrolls through them, several catching his attention – one in particular being, a scale. It has words written on it in sharpie, decorating the white surface with phrases like “starve yourself, fattie,” and “eat less, weigh less.” It’s oddly inspiring. Eren saves the photo to his phone, he’ll have to see if he can’t do something similar to his own scale at his apartment. Jean never uses it, anyways.

                Eren runs a hand through his hair. A huge clump of it falls out, and Eren stares at his hand. Why is his hair falling out? Has it always been doing this? He’s never noticed. When he showers in the mornings, his loose hairs fall out, but he’s never noticed that it does it even _after_ he showers, hours later, when his hair is dry. Was it falling out when Levi ran _his_ fingers through it earlier?

                He shoves his phone in his pocket, running his hand through his hair again. More falls out. He doesn’t understand.

                Eren stops himself, he can’t just go bald like this. It must be his imagination. He’s too young to look like an old man. His fingers shake nervously as he wipes his hands off on his pants, the loose hairs fluttering away behind him.

                He looks up and sees his apartment complex again. Somehow, he’s managed to make a full circle around the neighborhood. His phone hasn’t rung since he turned it on ‘Do Not Disturb,’ so he takes that as a good sign. He sneaks up to his room, pressing his ear to the door to try to listen for any signs of life inside. He hears none.

                Eren opens the door, slowly trailing inside. He looks around, but no Jean, no Marco. He thanks whatever holy force urged them out of the apartment, and he dashes towards the bathroom, legs numb and chest tight.

                He’s out of breath, but all he’s done was sprint, what, five feet? Goddamn he’s weak, he’s so fucking pathetic. He closes the bathroom door, locks it, and does something he’s never done to himself before – he jams his fingers down his throat, scratching roughly at the back. He gags, trying to vomit up the food he’d eaten just hours ago, but it’s not coming back up. Why isn’t it coming back up? Don’t say that his body’s already absorbed the calories. It can’t be too late now, it’s only been a few hours.

                Eren manages to release what can only be assumed is stomach acid, vile taste filling his mouth. No, that can’t be it, there has to be more. There has to be food in his stomach, and there has to be a way to get rid of it.

                He collapses onto his knees, excruciating pain shooting up the side of his leg. His knees are shaking, his fingers are bruised, and his nails are short and dying. He’s sacrificing so much just so that he can be beautiful, but he’s still not there yet.

                What if he never gets there? Eren can’t stand the thought. He can’t stand it, even as he feels himself fading out of consciousness, body slipping from over the toilet he was hovering over, until he’s on his side. The floor is cold, sending sharp pains throughout his muscles. He aches, and tries with all his might to stand up, but his body has a different plan. His eyes droop, his legs limp. He can’t even bring himself to let out a sob, it hurts too much. His arms are trembling with the force he puts on them, hands pressed to the floor as he attempts to push himself up. Bruises line his fingers, they coat every inch of his skin. But he’s never noticed them, because he’s been too focused on how much he weighs.

                His chest hurts, and he gasps for breath. He’s sweating, but his skin feels cold as ice.

                But then, it’s all over. It’s all over, when his eyes close and he’s finally out cold.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren’s awoken abruptly by the harsh banging of someone’s fist against the bathroom door. A voice calls out to him, saying words that fly right over Eren’s head.

                He groans out a reply, and the knocking stops. Eren gradually pulls himself up, muscles still sore. It’s hard to stand up – his legs are still on pins and needles. He shakes them, trying to wake them up, while letting out a yawn. The voice from the other side of the door, now very obviously belonging to Jean, tells him to get his ass ready because Marco’s taking the two of them out. Eren protests, to which Jean says that it’s either he goes with them, or he stays in the bathroom all day. Eren might be stubborn, but even he gets claustrophobic at times.

                Eren sighs. He faintly hears Jean retreating from the door, and he briefly wonders why Jean didn’t question the fact that Eren had fallen asleep in the bathroom. Whatever the reason, he’s thankful.

                He manages to make his legs functional enough to walk and he exits the bathroom, flushing down what little he managed to regurgitate last night before doing so. Jean’s waiting for him, sitting on the edge of his bed, and he raises his eyebrows. He looks upset, but he still shoots Eren the middle finger when Eren glares at him.

                As Eren’s searching through his closet, something catches his eye from his bed – it’s Levi’s jacket. The jacket he’d given him the day before.

                Eren won’t fit in it. Eren’s not thin enough. He might’ve been, if he hadn’t eaten that seafood, if he hadn’t eaten those Skittles. If he hadn’t drank that one glass of milk, if he hadn’t chewed that bite of toast, if he hadn’t downed that bottle of Pepsi so many months ago.

                But maybe it’s worth a shot. Levi _had_ given it to him, and what good is it to let such a pretty piece of fabric go to waste?

                Eren snatches it up, going back into the bathroom. He sets in down, changing from last night’s attire into a plain gray shirt, black pants to match. Black is slimming.

                He tugs Levi’s jacket on, instantly hating the way it hugs his shoulders. The sleeves are loose, but they just barely cover the ends of his wrists. Maybe if he can find some gloves, he’ll be able to hide his cuts and bruises.

                The pants nearly fall off of him when he steps forward, he has to grip them to keep them up. He needs a belt.

                The bathroom floor is a mess of discarded clothing, and Eren takes advantage of it. He _does_ find a pair of gloves, they’re black. They’re also damp, but Eren really doesn’t give a fuck.

                A belt is discovered moments later, right next to a dead cockroach. Lovely.

                He pulls the belt tight against him, having to slip the latch through the very last hole. The pants still feel loose, though. They just barely touch Eren’s hips. He pulls the trousers up, hoping that maybe they could conceal some of his excess weight. They don’t stay up that high.

                Eren trudges out of the bathroom. He doesn’t even have to look in a mirror to know he’s a mess. The look Jean gives him is enough, with his eye-widening and his nose-scrunching. God, what Eren wouldn’t give to be able to hunt out his knife and just stab himself right now.

                “Um,” Jean says, “Are you ready?”

                Eren looks at him. Why does Jean act so nervous around him? He doesn’t want his pity. He doesn’t want Jean to feel sorry for his fat ass. He wants Jean to keep belittling him, because his words are _encouragement,_ however hurtful they might be _. Come on, Horseface,_ Eren thinks, _say it. Say it, I know you’re thinking it. Call me fat, call me ugly, tell me that I need to lose weight._

                Jean doesn’t, though. He instead stands up and waves Eren over towards the door, leading him outside to meet Marco.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “What should we do?” Marco hums against Jean’s ear. They’re walking, a repeat of the day when they’d gone golfing together. Eren’s left to the side, huddling into his jacket, rubbing his hands for warmth. It’s odd, though, since this is the hottest day of the year so far.

                “I don’t know,” Jean whispers, “ _You_ were the one who looked it up.”

                “Yeah,” Marco says, “But I didn’t get any good results. They were all just things like, offer to take him to therapy, and tell him he’s going to be fine.”

                Jean scoffs. “Eren would rather die than go to therapy. And how the fuck is telling him that he’s going to be okay a good idea?”

                “I don’t know,” Marco moans, slumping forward. “I’ve _never_ had to deal with something like this before.”

                Jean shakes his head. “Neither have I.”

                “What could’ve caused it?” Marco sends a worried look to Jean, whose face hardens immediately.

                “No idea,” Jean says quickly.

                “But-“

                “Nope. Not a clue.”

                “You’re acting-“

                “Shut up, Marco. We should be focusing on the present, not the past.”

                Marco furrows his brows, but complies. “I guess you’re right.”

                “I’m always right.”

                “No you’re-“ Marco pauses, grabbing Jean’s arm to stop them in their stride.

                “What is it, Marco?” Jean says, and it’s only after he says it that he realizes exactly what’s wrong. “Where the fuck did that bastard run off to?”

                Marco’s eyes widen as he hurriedly looks all around, calling out Eren’s name, to no avail. Eren’s gone, he’s run off somewhere, and Marco and Jean are left to only worry.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren wants to slap himself. He’s being ridiculous. He shouldn’t even bother trying, he’ll just end up embarrassing himself.

                Those thoughts, however, don’t stop his feet from wandering away from Marco and Jean as he catches sight of the restaurant that he remembers Levi works at. Jean and Marco weren’t being productive anyways, all they were doing was sending whispers back and forth to each other, and Eren’s tired of being the third wheel.

                He pushes open the door to the restaurant, the familiar chime of a bell echoing through the building. Nobody looks over at him, with the exception being a woman with a brown ponytail and glasses. She rushes over to him.

                “Hello!” She greets him, shoving a menu in his hands before pulling out a notebook. “Name please? We’ve got the perfect seat for you, cutie, it’s right-“

                “Um,” Eren interrupts her, “I’m not here to eat.”

                “Oh?” she says, “Did you come for the bathrooms? They’re at the-“

                “No,” Eren stops her again, “I’m actually here to talk to someone.”

                “Ah!” she exclaims, “Are you a friend of Erwin’s? I’ll admit, you don’t look like his type of company, you’re kind of small and feeble, but-“

                “No,” Eren drawls, growing irritated. “I’m here for Levi.”

                The woman pauses, eyes widening. “Levi? Levi Ackerman?”

                Eren nods reluctantly. He assumes that’s him, though he’d never learned Levi’s last name.

                She clicks her tongue, before roughly grabbing his arm and pulling him up to the front counter and shoving him against a stool.

                “He’s not in yet,” she says, “But he should be here any minute now. Mind answering some questions for me?”

                Eren shrinks back in his seat. The woman’s flashing him a huge smile, getting awfully close to him. He doesn’t even get a chance to answer her, as she throws an inquiry out without even a moment of hesitation.

                “How do you know Levi Ackerman?” she asks, leaning against the counter.

                “Uh,” Eren hums, “I- I met him here?”

                “Is that a question?”

                “No,” Eren replies. Who the hell is this woman?

                “Okay,” she jots something down on a loose piece of paper, “What relationship do you have with a Mr. Levi Ackerman?”

                “Huh?” Eren squeaks.

                “Friend? Boyfriend? Husband? Father? Son? Roommate? Slave? Uncle? Nephew?” she lists off, face unchanging as she does so, a curious smile stretching the width of her features.

                Eren hesitates. He’s not exactly sure what he is to Levi, so he just says, “Friend.”

                “ _Friend_ ,” she whispers, “I didn’t know it was possible. How long?”

                “How long what?” he asks.

                “How long have you two been friends?”

                “Ah, a few days now?” Eren says. A man with bushy brows comes out from a nearby door, apron dirty with stains. He takes one look at the scene before him and sighs deeply.

                “Hanji,” he says, voice resonating, “Please tell me you’re not forcing another customer to take your survey.”

                “I’m not, Erwin,” she defends, raising up her hands, “This kid says he wants to see Levi, so I’m just asking him a few things.”

                The man named Erwin sends a look towards Eren. Eren shrinks back further, not enjoying the scrutinizing look on the man’s face. The man shrugs, though, and grabs something from a cabinet before disappearing behind another door.

                “So,” Hanji continues, leaning even closer to Eren, “How much do you know about Levi? I’ll bet you don’t know his favorite color. It’s-“

                “Green,” Eren interrupts, challenging her. Hanji leans back, raising her eyebrows and letting out a whistle.

                “Wow,” she remarks, “You’ve only known him for a few days, and yet you already know his favorite color? Took me _years_ to get it out of him.”

                Erwin pokes his head out. “Only took me a couple months.” Hanji hits him with her notebook.

                “What’s your name, kid?” she asks, turning back around.

                “Eren,” he responds. “Why isn’t Levi here yet?”

                She shrugs. “We don’t have a very set work schedule here, yet. We just stroll in whenever we feel like it. But back to you,” a glint of passion passes through her eyes, “What business do you have with Levi today?”

                Eren wishes he could answer that. He doesn’t actually know. All he understands is, he was walking with Marco and Jean, who were ignoring the fact that he even existed, and he caught sight of this restaurant and threw caution to the wind, retreating into its awaiting arms.

                The bell chimes, signifying that someone just entered the restaurant. Hanji’s head shoots in that direction, and she hops off towards the awaiting customer, pulling him harshly into a seat by the front entrance.

                Eren sits back, body as low in the seat as possible without threatening slipping off. There aren’t many people present, and the few that are there don’t spare Eren a single glance. But he still feels like he’s being watched, like there has to be _someone_ who’s thinking about how fat he is.

                Someone comes up to him and asks where the owner is, to which Eren profusely apologizes, explaining that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t get to take in much of the person before they walk away, but there’s one thing that burns into his brain – that person, that person is so _thin._ So much more thin than Eren. They project perfection, smooth skin and sexy curves. Why can’t Eren look like that? How many days must he go before _he_ can achieve such exquisiteness?

                His eyes wander around the restaurant, and he comes to the realization that _everyone_ here is thinner than him. They’re all so much more gorgeous, even the middle aged men have more splendor than Eren does.

                His belly churns, and he clamps a hand over it. _Shut up,_ he thinks. _You’re not hungry. You’re just bored._ He’d learned that little tidbit from his favorite blog, the same one that poisoned his mind with equating ‘eat’ to mean ‘fat’, the same one that has inspired him to want to decorate his scale with horrible sayings. Eren knows they’re horrible, but they’re also _motivating._

                Eren tries not to stare at the door, but he can’t wait for Levi. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Thus far, Levi’s managed to distract Eren from the pain in his stomach, from the knotting in his legs. Eren wants more of that distraction.

                Hanji dances around the room, shoving her face at customers with no regard to personal space. Eren’s surprised that nobody’s thrown a fit yet, with how close she sticks herself in their business.

                Minutes pass, Eren’s tummy growling incessantly with each passing second. The bell chimes at the front several times, and it’s all Eren can do not to whip his head that way like a puppy expecting his owner to be home. Thankfully, no sign of Jean or Marco yet – but the vibrating in his back pocket tells him that they’re likely hunting him out now.

                Eren starts drifting off to sleep, the sound of mindless chatter behind him the soundtrack to his impending snoozefest. In fact, he’s just a breath away from falling unconscious when a hand clutches his shoulder and shakes him awake.

                “What are you doing?” Eren looks up, to see Levi above him, eyes narrowed and death rays shooting from his pupils.

                “I, what?” Eren stutters, sitting up. He wasn’t sure it was possible, but Levi’s expression becomes even less amused.

                “What are you doing?” he repeats, grabbing a towel from a drawer.

                “I’m sitting?” Eren awkwardly reaches up to scratch his neck, though his glove prohibits him from doing so effectively.

                 “Hm,” Levi hums, taking that as an answer. “What are you doing _here,_ I suppose I should ask.”

                 "Oh,” Eren breathes, chest becoming tighter. “I was walking with my roommate, Jean, and his boyfriend, and they were kinda forgetting about me so I ran off here.”

                 “Why here?” Levi smirks. He knows why Eren came here, it’s obvious - he just wants him to say it.

                  Eren flashes him a shy smile, and he’s actually about to answer him, but he’s interrupted by a certain Hanji rocketing towards the two.

                 “Levi!” she moans, “This kid, this kid here, he says he’s your friend? I didn’t know you could make friends. He’s a total cutie, but isn’t he a little young? I didn’t know you went for the fresh-out-of-high-school type. I mean, sure, he’s just a friend, or so he says, but aren’t you usually more picky about who you-“

                 “Hanji,” Levi groans, “Hush.” Hanji obeys, propping her elbows up on the counter in front of her, waiting for an explanation.

                  Levi ignores her pleading look, and instead focuses on the towel that he’d grabbed. He turns it over in his hands, folding and unfolding it.

                 Hanji glares at him, realizing that Levi’s not about to tell her anything about his companionship with Eren. She turns to Eren and throws herself on top of him, keeping him in place by grabbing his wrists.

                 “Wanna know some stuff about Levi? When he was fifteen, he-“

                  “Hanji,” a disgruntled Levi barks, “Don’t assault the company.”

                   Hanji sticks her tongue out at him. He thrusts the towel he was holding at her, and she finally lets go of Eren.

                  “Eren,” Levi murmurs, shifting his attention, “Would you like a drink? Perhaps a dessert?”

                   Hanji dashes off, hearing the front door bell again. “No, thanks,” Eren responds, “Isn’t it a little early for dessert?”

                  “Never too early,” Levi scoffs, “People eat pancakes for breakfast, Eren. There’s no way in hell that isn’t a dessert.”

                   Eren can’t argue that. He still shakes his head, though. “Not hungry,” he says. He can’t help but feel like he’s being a problem now, strutting into a place like this, bothering Levi with his presence and then refusing to so much as eat. But he’s always been a burden, hasn’t he?

                   Levi stares at him for a moment. He then reaches out, gripping Eren’s chin and pulling his head up.

                   “Eren,” he says, “What happened to your collar?”

                   “My what?” Eren gasps, trying to peer down and see what’s wrong.

                   “Bruises,” Levi hums, “You’re covered in them.”

                   “Oh,” Eren breathes, lightly slapping Levi’s hand away. He rubs a hand over his collarbones, and sure enough, they ache. “I just, I was playing soccer, yeah? With- with my roommate,” he lies, and his ears heat up.

                Levi doesn’t believe him, he knows it. He can see it in the way his gray eyes pierce him, scanning what little skin that Eren reveals, roaming his body in search of other damage.

                “Je me fais du souci pour toi,” Levi murmurs, “I’m worried about you.”

                Eren shakes his head, “Don’t be worried. I’m fine.”

                “Are you?” Levi leans back, eyes looking over him.

                “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this until tomorrow, but then I remembered that I have stuff to do tomorrow and Friday, so. Yeah.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, Levi, it took you long enough.

                Jean collapses onto a park bench, leaving absolutely no room on it as he stretches his arms and legs. He groans, letting out a halfhearted scream of frustration against the cool metal. Marco goes over and leans against the back of the bench.

                They’ve looked everywhere they can think of – the gym, the apartment, the Walmart down the street, they even dared to venture into a flower shop run by a grouchy man who kept trying to keep up an obvious persona, battling with himself over whether he should show his true colors or keep pretending to be something he’s not. They didn’t bother going into any fast food places or the like – assuming that they’re correct in thinking that Eren has an eating disorder, he wouldn’t be found in one of those. And, as of right now, Jean and Marco are at least ninety-nine percent positive that something’s not exactly right in Eren’s head.

                “What now?” Jean rolls over so that he’s on his back.

                “No clue,” Marco shrugs. “He’s not answering his phone. I keep calling and texting, but no response.”

                Jean lets out another groan. “Fuck, Marco. We should’ve done something sooner.”

                “Um,” Marco sends him an unamused look, “You were the one who kept saying that there’s no way he could have a disorder.”

                “What kind of eating disorder do you think he has?” Jean says, ignoring Marco’s remark. Marco doesn’t reply for a good moment, mulling this over.

                “I don’t know,” he answers, “I’m not a doctor.”

                They stay there like that, Marco typing frivolous messages to Eren that don’t get a response, Jean staring up at the sky like he might find the answers in the clouds.

                “I feel guilty,” Jean mutters.

                “Why? It’s not _your_ fault that this happened.” Marco pulls his phone up to his ear, attempting to call Eren once more.

                “But it _is,_ ” Jean says, “You have no idea.”

                “Jean,” Marco sounds worried, “How is it your fault?”

                Jean doesn’t answer him immediately. He feels horrible, he never thought that Eren would be the guy to take his words to heart. He always thought he was just having some fun with Eren, when he goes up to him and calls him a fat lard. It’s just a joke. Eren’s so far from being overweight, even more so now than when Jean had started calling Eren that.

                Even if Jean _isn’t_ the main cause of Eren’s downward spiral, he’s definitely played some role in it. That much is obvious. And Marco, Marco’s never heard Jean call Eren anything but his name. Jean’s always reserved his insults for when the two were alone, when he can make the light leave Eren’s eyes without being stabbed by someone for it.

                It’s all making sense now, though. Before, he’d thought it impossible for Eren to be hurting himself like this. But the small meals, the way he trips over nothing, the bruises that line his legs in the fleeting moments that he wears shorts. It makes sense.

                When did Eren start doing this to himself? Jean racks his brain, but it’s hard to pinpoint – the earliest he can remember Eren skipping a meal was so long ago, he’s not even sure what month it was.

                He has to tell Marco. He has to tell him what an asshole he’s been to Eren, but at what cost? Marco’s an angel. He’d leave Jean in a heartbeat if he found out just how cruel he’d been. Wouldn’t he? Marco’s stayed with him, even after learning some _other_ rather disturbing facts about Jean, what’s the limit for him?

                “Armin,” Marco says suddenly. “Armin’s Eren’s friend. He might know what to do.”

                “Armin?” Jean mutters, “He lives hours away, though.”

                “You don’t think he’d be willing to come here if we told him what’s wrong?”

                Jean grumbles something unintelligible, even to himself, but he still pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts, looking for Armin's name.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren climbs the steps to his apartment, legs growing even more numb with each step. He’s completely out of breath by the time he reaches the top, but it’s not even a very long staircase – he used to be able to run up these steps and still have plenty of energy left. What happened?

                He grips the wall for support, trying to regulate his heartbeat. When did he get so weak? Perhaps it’s been too long since he was last at the gym. He’s losing muscle.

                Eren managed to slip away from the restaurant he was at not too long ago, telling Levi and a curious Hanji that his friends were waiting for him. Which isn’t wrong – he started reading Marco’s texts after leaving, and they’re basically a jumbled mess of varying “what happened,” “where are you,” and “why did you leave?”

                Levi kept eyeing Eren throughout his whole visit, seemingly looking for Eren to slip up and reveal more skin to him. Which Eren was careful not to do, but Levi had still somehow managed to see his collar, tattered with purple blotches. He doesn’t even remember hitting himself there. A lot of his more recent bruises have no story behind them.

                Just before Eren left, Levi made it a point to tell Eren his home address, saying that if Eren ever wants to talk to him, he can drop by. Only after 5 PM, though, it’s the latest that Levi leaves work. Eren’s not sure he’ll ever be able to work up the courage to do so, but he still made sure to etch the address in his memory. And in his phone, on a note.

                He gropes his way over to his door, pushing it open. The door’s unlocked, and the two people sitting on Jean’s bed leave Eren unsurprised. Marco looks up when Eren enters, but Jean doesn’t.

                “Eren-“ Marco starts, but Eren interrupts him.

                “Can we save this for later? I’m tired.”

                “But it’s only-“ Marco tries, but Eren ignores him, falling onto his bed facedown. Marco doesn’t try to push him any further, and Eren _does_ go to sleep in a matter of moments. Going up those stairs really took a toll on him, his heart still pounding rapidly against his chest.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Jean and Marco are gone. They left. Eren doesn’t know where they went or why they went. They left no notes, they left no texts, they didn’t even bother locking the door behind them.

                Eren crawls out of bed, shaking his arms and legs to wake them up. They’re still asleep, though the rest of him is awake.

                His alarm clock reads “11:26 PM.” Sunday.

                Eren stands up, stretching. It’s dark outside, and he’s sweaty from having slept in such heavy clothing. His arms tingle, and he pushes back the sleeves to look at his forearms – covered in new bruises and dried blood inside the scars from when he last cut. His skin’s turning pale, and Eren can swear that he didn’t used to be this _gray_ before. But perhaps that’s just what happens when you grow older.

                Eren searches under his mattress, pulling out his best friend – his calorie-tracking notebook. He flips through the pages until he’s at the most recent date. He scribbles down the meal that he’d eaten with Levi, the plain fillet – not leaving out any details. He then shoves the notebook back under his mattress, hand rubbing against his knife.

                He pulls his hand out. It managed to slice open his glove, and he internally curses himself. It didn’t manage to cut his hand, but as he pulls his glove off, it’s apparent that it really wouldn’t matter if it had – his fingers are coated in purple and blue bruises. They’re freezing, but he can hear the heater in their room running. He shreds the gloves, tossing them to the side to be thrown away later, despite the cold. He’s not sure that he owns any other pairs, but he’ll try to tough it out for now – he read somewhere, a few months ago, that cold weather burns more calories.

                Thinking of that, he even takes it so far as to completely leave his apartment and take a stroll in the dark. His phone in his pocket, he enters the cool night with only Levi’s jacket to warm him. He’s almost surprised, Levi had made no comment about the jacket earlier. Not even his colleagues mentioned it, they probably didn’t even recognize it. It’s not exactly uniquely designed – it’s plain, it’s black. Nothing special.

                Eren feels loneliness wash over him, he’s not even sure why. He’s _always_ alone, why is he just now feeling lonely?

                He hides his hands in the sleeves, taking advantage of the lack of lighting to be his shield from the watchful eyes of passersby. Eren’s done a lot of mindless wandering in the past few days, he’s amazed that he still has the courage to do it now, afterhours.

                That’s when he has an idea. Levi gave him address, he said that Eren can come visit any time – so, why not? What better time than now, when Eren’s desperately fighting the urge to keep his legs awake, when he’s fighting to even move forward? His thighs tingle, his calves are sore, and he doesn’t understand why.

                Eren pulls out his phone, opening the note he’d made earlier with Levi’s address inside. He puts the address into his GPS, which tells him he’s a good twenty minutes away from where Levi lives. He groans, but picks up the pace, sprinting down the street. He probably looks suspicious as fuck, hands tucked away and dashing at his fastest speed, dressed in black, but he doesn’t really care right now. He _has_ to see Levi again, he needs to talk to _someone._

                He nearly collapses within seconds of his sprint, but he keeps going, even when he legs start trembling and feel like they’re going to snap in half. He wheezes, having to open his mouth to gasp for air. Cold air infiltrates his lungs, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

                By the time he’s at Levi’s front door, he has to lean onto the wall to prop himself up as he breathes in and out, calming himself. His legs are still shaking. He uses what little strength he can muster up to ring Levi’s doorbell, then he quickly composes himself, forcing his breaths even and pulling his shirt down to try to hide his wobbly legs. He sucks in his gut and separates his thighs, wanting to look nice. He uses his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his face.

                Eren rings the doorbell again. Still no answer. Is he at the right house?

                Just as he turns to leave, the door opens and a very annoyed Levi answers the door. He looks Eren up and down, and his expression softens slightly. He’s wearing his work uniform, but his shirt’s unbuttoned and he’s not wearing a tie. Jesus fucking Christ, he looks like an Adonis - chiseled muscles decorate his body from his waistline up to even his shoulders, pale skin glistening like a Greek statue.

                “What are you doing here?” he says. Eren winces at how harsh it sounds.

                “I- I felt- I felt lonely, so I thought I’d come here,” he says, realizing too late how pathetic that sounds.

                Levi doesn’t seem to mind though. He steps aside, inviting Eren into his house. Eren accepts his offer, shoving his hands into his pockets and eyes adjusting to the indoor lighting.

                “Shoes off. Follow me,” Levi commands, and Eren does as he’s told. He’s led down a long hallway to a small dining room, and Levi pulls out a chair for him to sit in. He does so, and Levi leaves him in there alone, disappearing behind a door.

                Eren slips down in his seat, trying to look smaller than he really is. It hurts, holding his stomach in like this for so long. That, added on to the constant hunger pains, he feels like his tummy is about to burst.

                Eren groans as another pain shoots through him, starting in his belly and then climbing up to his chest and numbing his legs. It hurts, it hurts so much, but he powers through it, because he’s done this before, and it’s been _far_ worse before. He remembers one time he couldn’t even stand up because of how bad it hurt. His only solution then was to fall asleep, but he, of course, can’t fall asleep _here,_ in the middle of Levi’s house.

                Levi peeps his head through the door he’d previously used to exit the room. “Water?” he asks, eyes continuing to run their course over Eren, inspecting him.

                Eren nods. “How’d you know?”

                “Just a hunch,” Levi mutters, closing the door behind him once again. Just in time, too, as Eren’s stomach lets out a tiny growl. He knows he should’ve drunken some water before leaving his room; that would’ve helped calm the monster. But Levi’s offered to bring him some water now, so perhaps that will have to suffice.

                Eren coughs, wheezing. Just the act of coughing takes extreme effort, and it’s all he can do not to curl up and collapse on the floor. He wipes his eyes, tears forming from the pain in his body.

                Levi pushes through the door once again, and Eren pulls himself up quickly, regaining composure. Levi doesn’t seem to notice the action, arms full. He sets down a glass in front of Eren – it’s tall, filled to the brim with water. Eren doesn’t hesitate to take huge gulps from it as soon as he can, though the cold water burns as it goes down.

                Levi also sets down a plate of cookies, and Eren tries not to cringe as the smell fills the air. They’re sweet, chocolately, overwhelming. Eren forces his eyes away from them.

                Another plate comes down, one filled with what Eren recognizes as cream puffs, whipped cream squished between two half-spheres of pastry and drizzled with chocolate sauce. It looks incredible, a little _too_ incredible, and Eren’s brain is tripping over itself trying to figure out what excuse he can use this time to get out of eating.

                Levi sits down, pulling a chair up so close to Eren that their knees bump into each other with each movement. He takes a sip from his own drink – holding the cup with only his fingertips at the top – a drink that Eren’s not too familiar with what it is. It looks like it might be a soda, it’s a dark color and it fizzes when Levi sets the cup down. He reaches over and picks up a cream puff, starting to munch on it as he looks expectantly at Eren.

                “Well?” he says, swallowing a bite of the dessert. “Have some.” He pushes the plate with the cookies closer to Eren.

                Eren vehemently shakes his head. “No, I’m not-“

                “Hungry, you’re not _hungry_ , are you?” Levi says, voice like a freshly sharpened knife. Eren’s at a loss for words. “Don’t be stupid.”

                 “I’m not being stupid, I’m just not hungry,” Eren defends.

                Levi glares at him, and Eren tries to stand his ground for once, straightening his back and glaring right back at Levi. Levi’s scowl doesn’t falter, however, and Eren feels his resolve breaking.

                “My jacket,” Levi says, “You’re actually wearing it.”

                Eren freezes. He didn’t think Levi would say anything about it, he hadn’t earlier. “You gave it to me,” Eren says.

                “I did,” Levi nods solemnly. He stops staring at Eren long enough to pick up another cream puff. “You don’t think it’s hot in here, though?”

                “What? No,” Eren takes another drink from his water.

                “I’ll get you a blanket, then,” Levi says, getting up. Eren opens his mouth to tell him that he doesn’t have to, but Levi’s gone before Eren can even make a sound.

                Eren tries so hard, he tries so hard to keep his eyes away from the plate of calories calling his name, but Eren’s eyes act on their own and force him to admire the sparse crumbs and the melting goo of chocolate and the rich textures and the cracks in the cookies, and god above, the desserts are letting off a smell so heavenly that even Abraham Lincoln himself would crawl out of his grave for a bite. Eren pulls his hands out of his pocket, stretches the sleeves of Levi’s jacket until they’re over his fingers, and he plugs his nose with his hands, preventing himself from smelling anything but Levi – a faint cherry aroma, welcoming and warm.

                Levi walks back in, a fuzzy blue blanket in his arms. He unfolds it, taking one end in one hand and the other end in the other hand.

                “Take off the jacket,” he says, waiting.

                “No, thank you,” Eren politely refuses, batting his eyelashes and widening his eyes in hopes that it’ll deter Levi. Levi doesn’t fall for it.

                “Why not? My jacket isn’t _that_ comfortable, and I would know, I’ve worn it before.”

                Eren fidgets, becoming uncomfortable with Levi’s prying. “It’s _cold_ in here, and the jacket’s another layer of warmth, yeah?”

                Levi blinks, but he resigns. He wraps the blanket around Eren, draping it over his shoulders. It’s quite possibly the softest blanket Eren’s ever felt, little threads rubbing against his neck and his fingers, which he curls under the corners of the blanket. He grips the edges, wrapping the blanket further around himself so that he may cocoon into it. Eren almost swears that he can see Levi fighting a smile.

                Levi picks up a cream puff and hands it to Eren. “Let’s not waste these, mon chéri,” he murmurs.

                “I told you, I’m not hungry.”

                “Nonsense,” Levi says, continuing to hold out the cream puff, “Mangez.”

                “Are you really going to force me to eat?”

                “Oui.”

                Eren narrows his eyes at him, sending a deadly glare his way. Without breaking eye contact, he pulls his body forward enough to take a bite of the cream puff – he gets half of it, flavor filling his mouth instantly. It’s amazing, simply incredible, but Eren chooses to force it down as fast as he can, no savoring at all.

                Levi raises his eyebrows a tad. He, too, leans forward, placing a hand on Eren’s knee – who winces, because Levi just touched a bruise – and continues to feed Eren the rest of the cream puff.

                “Tu es beau,” Levi hums, “Tu es beau.”

                “Mmpf?” Eren noises, mouth full of cream puff. He swallows before finishing his chewing.

                “You are beautiful,” Levi translates for him. He reaches over to grab another cream puff for Eren.

                “Don’t say that,” Eren mutters. For some reason, he doesn’t exactly mind being fed by Levi – he’s not a fan of eating, but the close proximity of Levi to him, the feeling of his hand on his knee, it sends tingles down his spine and through his ribcage, piercing him right in the heart.

                “Why not?” Levi asks, using a finger to wipe a smudge of chocolate from Eren’s lips.

                “It’s not true.”

                “You’re joking, right?”

                Eren doesn’t answer him, though Levi pauses, waiting for an answer. When he doesn’t get one, his face falls, any sort of emotion being wiped from his features.

                “Ah, Eren,” he groans, setting down the dessert in his hand. He then pulls Eren into a hug, burying Eren’s face into his chest. He runs a hand up and down his back, directly over Eren’s spine, following the contours of it.

                “Beautiful,” Levi says over and over, tucking his head down next to Eren’s ear so that he might breathe the word over and over to him.

                Eren lets it happen, too – Levi initiated this, so Eren’s not going to fight it.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Levi runs his fingers over Eren’s body, trying his hardest to feel what he can through the blanket and the layers of clothing between them. He traces the sharp bones sticking out of his back, he palms Eren’s sides lightly, feeling his ribs and the slope of his chest to his hips, where his stomach slides in. Eren reels his head back so that it’s situated between Levi’s shoulder and chin, resting on his neck. His breaths come out evenly, Levi making an effort to match their inhalations. Levi takes advantage of the situation by stuffing his nose against Eren’s forehead. He smells nice, it’s a bit like artificial strawberries, if Levi’s smeller does not betray him.

                They stay like that, until Eren finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You don’t have to do this.”

                “I don’t mind,” Levi murmurs, “But perhaps we should take this upstairs.”

                “Upstairs?” Eren questions, moving so that he can get a better view of Levi’s face.

                “Mhm,” Levi hums. He reaches down and grips the divine beauty’s hand, moving aside the blanket so that he may do so. He wraps his fingers around Eren’s, eyes not leaving Eren’s face. He doesn’t miss the slight wince the boy gives when Levi takes hold of his fingers.

                Levi stands, pulling Eren up with him. Eren uses his unoccupied hand to keep the cover up, still draped over his shoulders. Levi leads him through his house, up a flight of stairs, and through the last door at the end of a long hallway. They enter what can only be Levi’s room, a fair-sized space in which the bed takes up a large amount of the room. The curtains flutter, the window being left slightly open to chill the air.

                Levi takes Eren over to his mattress, where they sit on the edge. He lets go of his hand, allowing Eren to get comfortable. His eyes catch sight of what looks like bruises on his hands, and his heart nearly deflates in his chest. More bruises? Are the ones on his collar not enough? Are there _more_?

                “You have a nice house,” Eren comments, stretching his legs in front of him and curling into the blanket.

                “Merci,” Levi says, “You have a nice voice.”

                “Mare-say,” Eren mocks, butchering the French language. Levi chuckles.

                “Hanji,” he says, abruptly changing the subject, “She said you told her we were friends.”

                “We are,” Eren murmurs, letting Levi take him back in his arms, “Aren’t we?”

                “Mmm,” Levi hums, “Is that it?”

                Eren lies with the back of his head to Levi’s chest, looking up. His legs hang off the bed, Levi’s crossed underneath Eren’s body. Levi massages Eren’s shoulders, fingers tracing his collarbones as he tries to subtly undress Eren. Levi’s been dying to find out what majestic prize awaits him underneath the clothing Eren hides behind, and Eren thus far has been fairly willing to give in to Levi’s requests – he let Levi kiss him at the movie theater, he let Levi put a flower in his hair, he even let Levi feed him just a moment ago.

                The blanket covers Eren from his chest down, showing just a bit of Eren’s tan skin. “What do you mean?” Eren asks, green eyes looking into Levi’s gray ones.

                “I mean,” Levi says, “You don’t _really_ think we’re just friends, do you?”

                “Huh?”

                Levi squeezes Eren’s shoulder. He honestly didn’t think he’d go _this_ far with Eren. When he first saw the boy, his thoughts had been more along the lines of fuck-and-go. But less than twenty-four hours had passed before he started imagining a _life_ with the kid, and fuck if Levi’s not going to try to make his daydreams a reality.

                He slides a hand down Eren’s shirt, cupping it around the side of his chest. Eren’s eyes widen, gasping lightly under Levi’s touch, and Levi briefly realizes that he probably should’ve warmed his hands before doing this. His eyes wander over Eren’s face, making sure that it’s okay before he goes any further – the boy, however, looks too surprised to tell him to keep going or to stop.

                “Is this okay?” Levi breathes, fingers delicately tickling Eren’s skin.

                “Uh,” Eren’s cheeks flush a light pink, “I, I guess, but why are you, why would you want to? I mean, I know you’ve called me beautiful, but I really don’t think I’m worth that much of your time, sir, and besides, we just met-“

                “Hush,” Levi commands softly. He helps remove the blanket from over Eren, tossing it to the floor with ease. He then reaches over to help Eren out of his jacket, but Eren slaps his wrists away.

                “Levi, I don’t think you want to do this,” he says, eyes fluttering back and forth across the room.

                “What do you mean?” Levi asks, climbing on top on Eren, pushing him down until he’s on his back, “Of course I want to do this.”

                “Why?”

                “Because you’re beautiful,” Levi wraps a hand around one of Eren’s knees, bringing it up to wrap around his waist.

                “Stop saying that,” Eren says, following suit by lifting his other leg around Levi in a similar fashion.

                “What would you rather I say?” Levi leans forward, one hand behind Eren’s knee, the other one settled beside Eren’s torso, propping Levi up.

                Levi leans down and presses a kiss to Eren’s neck, and whatever the boy had been about to say is muffled by the moan he elicits. Levi’s not sure he’s ever heard anything so melodious before, and he’s decided that he’ll do whatever it takes to make Eren release more of those sweet noises.

                “I, I,” Eren stutters, hands going up to grip Levi’s shoulders as the older man sucks a bite into Eren’s neck, right below his earlobe.

                “You’re still okay with this, right?” Levi murmurs, licking where he’d just bitten.

                “Yeah,” Eren breathes back.

                Levi slides a hand under Eren’s shirt, pulling it up to expose his belly. He’s thin, far thinner than Levi had thought he was – which, he already knew Eren was small. But _this,_ this is unnaturally skinny – he looks like he must be starving, his hip bones stretch far past any other part of his stomach, like handles. His ribs add a texture to his chest, an ugly, unappealing jut in his skin.

                “What the fuck, Eren?” Levi mutters, sitting up. Eren quickly pulls down his shirt, face completely red.

                “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t have seen that, I’ll just go now.”

                “Wait, Eren,” Levi tries to stop him, but Eren uses all of his force to shove Levi off of him. He gets off the bed and leaves, and Levi’s almost surprised when he hears his front door slam; Eren was able to remember his way out, this having been the only time Eren’s ever been in Levi’s house. Perhaps he’d memorized his way around, in case he felt the need to escape – but Levi hates that thought.

                Levi wants to chase after Eren, he knows he probably – definitely – should. He’s too busy, though, trying to figure out exactly what he just saw – there’s no way that Eren was born that thin. Levi’s seen naturally thin people, and they don’t look like _that._ He should’ve known something was wrong when Eren kept refusing to eat. He should’ve known something was wrong when he kept ordering water instead of soda. He should’ve known something was wrong when he first saw Eren, when he first saw his collarbones and his hollow cheeks. He should’ve known something was wrong when Eren showed up, covered in bruises. He should’ve known, when Eren kept bundling up because he felt cold, even though the temperature was well into the higher digits.

                No, but Levi _did_ know. He knew and he just didn’t do anything. He suppressed his suspicions.

                He should’ve done something, each and every time that he’d ever doubted Eren’s wellbeing. Eren could be _dying_ right now, what if he dies tonight? What if his body finally decides to give out? Levi fed him, but would it be enough? How many cream puffs did Eren have? Levi only remembers feeding him one or two or three. That’s not very many.

                Levi curses himself for not getting Eren’s phone number – if he had, he could call him and apologize. He was incredibly rude, to speak to Eren like that, especially after pulling Eren’s shirt up. This isn’t what Levi wanted, to upset Eren in such a way. He’s just concerned, that’s all – he’d spoken completely out of his place, he’d have had better luck if he just kept his mouth shut and voiced his worries to Eren _after_ he fucks his brains out. But can Levi even work up the courage to have sex with someone like Eren, someone with who suffers from an eating disorder? He’s not sure. He’s not sure if he should, because what if it lures Eren into the false idea that Levi only wants him because he’s thin? Then he’ll keep starving himself. But this situation isn’t any better – Eren’s probably going to go back to his shitty apartment now and wonder why Levi thinks he’s any less than perfect.

                Levi groans. He has to make it up to Eren soon, even if “soon” means at three or four in the morning. He jogs downstairs, buttoning up his shirt, and grabs his wallet – he knows exactly where to go to get Eren an apology gift. The thought of having to deal with a sleep-exhausted Oluo isn’t exactly high on Levi’s “favorite things to do at one in the morning” list, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levi's pretty smooth.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love cereal.

                It’s cold outside. It’s freezing, actually – Eren feels like his limbs are going to fall off at any moment. His arms and legs grow increasingly numb as he walks, his tears soaking with face with salty streams that cool his cheeks.

                It shouldn’t surprise him that Levi thinks he’s ugly. It really shouldn’t, everybody else thinks he’s disgusting. But Levi had gone out of his way, so many times, to call Eren beautiful, to compliment his eyes and his hair, it’s just a bit off-putting to find that Eren might _not_ be as gorgeous as Levi had tried to lead him to believe.

                Eren knows his body isn’t anything special. It’s fat. It’s flabby. It’s covered in far too much meat. Levi didn’t have to react like _that,_ though, so harshly – a simple, “I don’t want to have sex with you,” would’ve been fine enough. But no, oh no, he had to express his disgust as a, “ _What the fuck, Eren?_ ”

                Eren saw the way Levi’s expression changed immediately as he pulled Eren’s shirt up. He saw the way Levi cringed when he ran his fingers so briefly over Eren’s belly. It’s impossible to have missed that, it was so obvious.

                Eren feels like dying. He feels like dying, now more than ever. How could he be so careless? To show his body off to someone he’d nearly just met, to let someone see just how abhorrent he really looks. He doesn’t deserve Levi’s kindness. What he _does_ deserve is to be stabbed between the eyes for subjecting society to his awful lumps and his paling skin and the way he takes up too much space when he sits down.

                He could do it. He could do it right now. All he has to do is take one step onto the bustling road, all he has to do is walk into the wrong neighborhood, and bam, he’s dead. Bam, he doesn’t have to suffer anymore. Bam, everybody’s lives improve.

                Eren stops his trek at the corner of Levi’s street. He tries to read the road names, but it’s too dark and his vision’s blurred. A streetlight is nearby, but its light is dim and doesn’t reflect the colors of the road signs very well.

                A car passes by, zooming way above the speed limit. And then, another car, following in a similar fashion. Eren thanks his lucky stars for this, it seems to be a pattern – driver after driver speeds past Eren, not seeming to care that there might be obstacles they can’t see. Like a squirrel. Or a plastic bag. Or a crying teenager with suicidal tendencies.

                Eren lunges forward, hoping to get caught in traffics way, but his arm’s gripped by a hand with long fingers. He’s pulled against the body of someone tall, who wraps their free arm around his shoulders.

                “Woah there, cutie, just what do you think _you’re_ doing?”

                “H-Hanji?” Eren stutters, trying to crank his head back to look up at the person who grabbed him.

                “You can bet your cute little nose it is!” She makes her point by booping his nose with her finger. She then releases Eren, pulling him towards the other side of the sidewalk. “Now, just what was that there? Did you trip?”             

                “I- Yeah, I did,” Eren says. He feels his ears growing warmer.

                “Eren!” She sighs, “You have to be careful out here! You could’ve been killed.”

                “Sorry,” Eren mutters, though it’s not truthful in the slightest.

                “Where are ya headed?” she asks, crossing her arms.

                “Home,” he answers.

                “Oh? You’re not going over to Levi’s? That’s where I’m going. I can bring you along, if you want, it’s just down the street. I’m sure he’s dying to-“

                “No, thanks,” Eren interrupts. Hanji gives him an odd look.

                “Why not?”

                “I’m busy.”

                “Clearly not, you nearly ran out onto the road. And you’re talking to me, instead of running away. Come on, let’s go,” she pulls on his arm, “Erwin said he was going to meet me there. I’m sure he won’t mind if you tag along.”

                “No, really, I have somewhere-“

                “You’ll be fine,” she says, “Levi’s told me so much about you! I mean, sure, I might have forced some – a lot – of it out of him, but nevertheless, I now have a fair idea of who you are! Your favorite color is gray, which is often associated with blandness and depression, so I have deduced that you-“

                “Hanji,” Eren interrupts, “I get that you’re trying to be friendly, but really, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine.”

                “Are you sure?” She looks genuinely surprised. “Maybe I could walk you home?”

                “No, thank you,” he says passively. He tries to conceal the curiosity in his voice as he asks, “Why are you going to Levi’s?”

                Hanji claps her hands together, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Surprise visit! Erwin and I do this every Sunday – or, technically, Monday, now.”

                Eren blinks. “It, It’s not a surprise, then, if you do it every week.”

                “Well, this is actually the first time that we’ve done this.”

                Eren narrows his eyes. Is she being serious right now?

                It does bother Eren, though, to think that if he had stayed with Levi just a bit longer – if he weren’t so fucking _ugly_ – then Hanji and Erwin might’ve walked in on Levi shoving his dick up Eren’s ass. Maybe it’s for the best that Levi was repulsed by Eren’s body.

                “Come on, cutiepants,” Hanji cheers, “I’m walking you home, then. It’s dangerous out here, and there’s no way I’m letting Levi’s special little friend get hurt.”

                “There’s no convincing you otherwise, is there?” Eren asks, exasperated.

                “Nope,” she interlocks their arms together, “Erwin and Levi are just going to have to wait a few extra minutes. Now, lead the way, Green Eyes!”

                Eren flashes her a shy smile. Hanji’s not a bad person, Eren might even go so far as to say that he likes her company. She’s nosy, but she’s a good sort of quirky. Eren leads her down the sidewalk, trying to remember his way home without using his phone as a GPS.

                “So,” Eren says, “You say you want to walk me home so that I’m not completely defenseless. How exactly do you plan to protect me?”

                “Are you doubting me?”

                “Maybe,” Eren challenges.

                She lets out a hearty laugh. “I’m a black belt in karate, sweetie.”

                “Really?” Eren raises his eyebrows.

                “Of course! I can prove it, too.”

                Eren chuckles. “That, that won’t be necessary.”

                “Don’t worry, Cheekbones, I won’t demonstrate my techniques on _you,_ you’re so thin, I might break you in half. But Erwin or Levi, I wouldn’t mind.”

                Eren laughs. Just the thought of a tall man like Erwin, or the ever-so-expressionless Levi, hunched over in pain is humorous – before he even realizes it, _Eren’s_ the one folded over in agony from laughing so hard. Hanji laughs with him, though Eren’s not sure if it’s because she finds the thought of it to be hilarious too, or if it’s because Eren’s started wheezing, clutching his chest in an attempt to catch his breath.

                “You’re a good kid, Eren,” Hanji murmurs, helping Eren to calm down. He stands up straight again, and she unlinks their arms, seemingly trusting that Eren will keep pace.

                “Thank you,” Eren says. “You doubted me?”

                “Not necessarily,” she hums, “But this was all a bit sudden. Levi doesn’t exactly make friends very easily, and then out of the blue comes a cutie-patootie like you saying that you’re buddies with him. Mind telling me the story, now?” A grin pulls at her lips.

                “Um, there isn’t really a story-“

                “Don’t lie! There _has_ to be. Let me guess, Levi found a lamp and rubbed it, and you’re a genie? No, maybe he saw you in a crystal ball, and it’s actually fate that has destined you two to meet. Or is he holding you against your will, forcing you to say that you’re his? Perhaps you’re a reincarnation of a past life, and Levi recognizes you-“

                “I, I don’t really know, myself,” Eren admits, “I mean, he just sort of approached me and told me to come hang out with him. That’s really it.”

                “You act like that’s a small feat,” she muses. The two make a turn onto another road, one that Eren only vaguely recognizes through the dark haze of the night. “Odd. Maybe he just thinks you’re hot.”

                “That’s not it,” Eren shoots down immediately.

                “How do you know?”

                “He kind of told me. Indirectly.”

                “Indirectly, hmm,” she murmurs, “What did he say?”

                “I, um, I’d rather not tell you,” Eren awkwardly diverts his eyes.

                “Oh, sweet pea, don’t be afraid to talk to me! I promise I’ll keep our conversations private. He didn’t say anything that offended you, did he? Whatever he said, don’t take it to heart, he speaks without thinking sometimes. Alright, dear? I’ll kick his butt for you later. Now, let me see that bright smile,” she moves her fingers over to pinch Eren’s cheeks into a forced smile.

                “Um,” Eren pushes her away, “I, I’ll keep that in mind. We’re here.” Eren stops in front of his apartment complex, giving himself a mental applause for being able to find his way back without the use of technology.

                “Oh? You live… here?” She hesitates, but then pulls Eren in for a huge bear hug, arms thrust all the way around his shoulders.

                “Aw! I don’t want this to end!” she gushes. “I’m having so much fun talking to you! You’re so much nicer than Levi, Levi never tells me anything without me having to force it out, and you’re easier to talk to than Erwin, he always tries to act all wise and tough. You’re way cuter than the two of them, too! You’re kind of spindly, but you have a great tush, and your eyes are just-“

                Eren pulls away from her suffocating hug with a nervous smile. “T-thanks?”

                “Be safe, sweetie, I expect to see you again soon!” She pats his shoulder before sprinting off in the direction that they came from.

                Eren pauses. Hanji’s gone, and the high he’d gotten from talking with her is already fading. The hole that she’d temporarily plugged in his heart is empty now, loneliness plaguing the space as a wash of depression takes over him. He’d felt so nice, Hanji chatting him up like he was the single most important thing on the planet. But she’s gone now. All of the things Eren had pushed aside, had wanted to distract himself from come back at full force, reminding him of just how worthless he is.

                Eren trudges up the stairs. He’s only halfway up before his side starts to cramp, but he pushes on.

                Hanji told Eren that Levi probably didn’t mean what he said. And maybe he didn’t, maybe Eren has this all wrong and Levi wasn’t surprised because of how _ugly_ Eren is. Maybe he just had a huge cockroach on him.

                _What the fuck, Eren?_ The phrase repeats itself over and over in Eren’s head, Levi’s tone growing harsher and more hateful with each repetition. It’s four words, just four, but Eren feels his chest ache even more with each thought of them. Levi kept complimenting him, he kept calling him beautiful, he’d even done it in French. So Eren shouldn’t be upset that there’s something Levi _doesn’t_ like, but it _does_ make him upset, more than anybody else’s words towards him thus far. Even Jean’s constant berating is no comparison.

                He reaches his door, pushing it open. Neither Jean nor Eren ever remember to lock it, but nobody’s desperate enough to rob _them._ The only thing of value that they own is all of Jean’s shit, and Jean is actually fairly talented at keeping his more expensive items stashed away. Eren’s only ever found them by accident – he once found Jean’s laptop by opening the oven, for once in his life, so that he could bake a cake for Marco’s birthday. Needless to say, a fire was almost started that day. Needless to say, Jean gave Eren quite the earful when he found out that his precious laptop had almost been melted into a puddle.

                Eren feels his phone buzz, and he pulls it out to look at it. At the top, the time reads, “2:33 AM.” Shit, it’s early.

                He didn’t receive any texts, so he unlocks his phone. Turns out, it’s just an email. From a website that he hasn’t used in over a year. Eren feels slightly disappointed that he didn’t get a text, a message, anything besides the dreaded spam mail. Loneliness is rearing its horrid head, curling its long nails along Eren’s neck and choking him. He jogs his way into the bathroom, knowing exactly what to do – what he’s been meaning to do, ever since he got the idea.

                Eren pulls out his scale, digging around for a black Sharpie from his bathroom drawers. He sets the scale down, dropping down to the floor next to it, groaning as his sore legs finally get a stretch break. He sits, legs out in front of him. He’s found that it’s getting harder and harder to sit with his legs crossed, they fall asleep almost immediately under his weight. He doesn’t understand why, though.

                Eren uncaps the Sharpie. He sets the top down on the floor and pulls up the familiar picture on his phone – the one of the scale with writing all over it.

                He sets to work. He starts in the top left corner, trying to keep his writing as neat as possible.

                _You are pathetic._

Simple enough. Effective.

                He moves his hand down, below the sentence he just wrote. He goes for a cursive font this time, curving his letters and adding a slight tilt to them.

                _Stop eating, fatass._

Perfect. All he has to do now is fill the rest of the space with his words of encouragement.

                His marker does a tango across the surface of the scale, different phrases in different fonts, some words written larger, some smaller. Some sentences stretch horizontally, some are squeezed vertically. Eren pulls inspiration for a lot of his writing by doing simple Google searches, using keywords like “dieting,” “not eating,” and “losing weight.” He pulls statements from his memory, as well – all those times Jean’s looked him straight in the eyes and called him a fucking loser.

                _When you’re thin, you can do whatever you want and people will love you._

_You look like a beached whale._

_Fat people are a disgrace to society._

_Skip dinner, wake up thinner._

Eren sets down the Sharpie, having finally finished decorating his scale. He knows he can get away with this, Jean probably doesn’t even _know_ that they own a scale.

                Eren stands up, having to use the bathroom sink to prop himself up as he regains his energy and wakes his legs back up. They tingle, and his arms are sore from all of the writing.

                He should definitely let the markings on the scale dry, but his curiosity is killing him – he _has_ to know how much weight he’s lost. Or gained.

                Eren steps onto the scale, feet covering a large portion of the words he’d written. The numbers bounce up and down for a minute before finally settling on a solid 102.

                Eren’s mouth gapes open, and he reaches his hands up to muffle the horrid scream that tries to escape his lips. He’s gained a whole pound since he last weighed himself, and how long ago was that? Three days, four days ago? All he knows is, it was recent. And he’s _already_ gained weight.

                His hands reach down to rub over his belly, pulling on the loose skin and running over the soft surface. He’s going to lose weight, he is. He just has to try harder. He can’t let Levi continue to lure him into the dark art of eating – which, Levi has managed to do. Twice. Once, with seafood, once with cream puffs. Fuck that guy. Levi’s got so much control over Eren, and Eren hasn’t even known him for a full week yet.

                Eren’s foolish; just because a man called him beautiful, he’d become so willing to please said man that he even went so far as to almost have _sex_ with him.

                But what if that’s all Levi wanted from Eren, all along? When he pulled Eren away from Jean and Marco at his restaurant, was he merely trying to pull Eren aside to fuck him?

                No. No, that’s not true, because Eren’s hideous. Nobody wants to fuck him, much less look at him. If Levi had been trying to sneak a quickie with Eren, then he must either be desperate or completely blind. And that doesn’t explain why Levi had wanted to get to know Eren.

                Eren steps off of the scale, tossing it back behind the toilet. He shreds his shirt and Levi’s jacket, draping the shirt over the scale to keep it hidden from view. His pants follow, and he skitters out of the bathroom to grab night clothing – a gray sweater, pants to match. He slips them on, throwing himself back on his bed. His leg misses the mattress and bangs against the sharp frame, and he lets out a groan as pain shoots up through his body, numbing his lower half momentarily. He curls up, clutching his leg as all of the life leaves it for a quick vacation. It’s absolutely going to leave a big bruise there, there’s no doubt about it.

                Levi’s jacket is still clutched in Eren’s fingers. He brings it up to his nose – Levi’s scent is fading, it’s being replaced.

                Eren slips the jacket on, around his chest and arms. He’s not sure how to feel about Levi right now. Hanji might be right. Maybe Eren’s just got the situation hopelessly wrong. But it still doesn’t sit right with him. Why hasn’t Levi tried to sort things out yet? Is it too early? Or _are_ Eren’s doubts correct, and Levi’s so disgusted with the sight of Eren’s body that he doesn’t want to see him anymore?

                Eren leans back, closing his eyes. He tries to find sleep, but sleep is nowhere to be found. His mind is racing, running over the events of the night, the events of the past few days, trying to figure out what could’ve caused him to gain weight. It must’ve been the cream puffs, those things just _looked_ like useless calories. He’s so glad that Levi didn’t force a cookie down his throat, Eren’s afraid that he would’ve gained another fucking roll on his tummy, had he devoured a single more calorie.

                Eren rolls over. His eyes flutter open. He desperately needs sleep, his thoughts are too much right now, they’re too overwhelming.

                 He hops out of bed, doing a slow jog to the bathroom. He digs through the cabinet above the sink, finding a bottle of sleep medicine buried at the very back. He pulls the cap off of the medicine bottle, downing a large gulp of it immediately, no regards to checking the recommended dosage or even checking the expiration date. It’s cool going down, though the taste of it is absolute hell.

                Eren sticks his head under the sink and drinks up a few mouthfuls of water to wash the taste away. He’s turning to leave to bathroom, when all of a sudden his belly starts churning, his chest hurting and liquids filling at the back of his throat. He leans his head over the sink, vomiting up the medicine. Fuck.

                With it comes what looks to be almost-digested cream puffs, and now throwing up doesn’t seem so bad anymore. He picks up the medicine bottle again, this time allowing half of it to enter his stomach. The effects are even worse, this time – his belly begs him to stop, twisting as it rejects the overdosage. His vision blurs for a moment as more food spills out of his mouth, emptying himself of all the nutrition that it held.

                Why didn’t he try this before? He should’ve. It’s an easy way to rid his body of food, while simultaneously urging his mind to rest.

                Eren washes away the vomit, cleaning the bathroom briefly before heading back out. He thinks he did a fair job of cleansing himself. The second round consisted of very little cream puff.

                He feels lightheaded, wobbling back to his mattress. His arms are on fire, sore and aching from propping up his body against the bathroom sink. His legs tremble as he lays himself back down on his bed, stomach growling like a rabid beast.

                Eren coughs, throat rubbed raw from strain. His mind’s not tired, but the rest of his body is exhausted. He struggles, everything hurting and aching. His limbs _do_ manage to convince his brain to shut off, however, and sleep overtakes him. Eventually.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “Eren can’t have an eating disorder,” Armin says, settling himself down in a beanbag chair. “Mikasa and I just saw him, what, a few weeks ago? He was eating fine.”

                Mikasa nods, standing behind Jean and Marco. The four are crowded together in a library, early hours of the morning. It’s the university that Armin and Mikasa attend, a beautiful but humble building with people bustling around at even these dark hours.

                Jean and Marco had managed to find their way here via brutally assaulting Armin’s ears with a phone call late at night, telling him to send them his address. Armin reluctantly did so, though he’s now very much regretting it – he doesn’t want to believe the words they’re telling him, as he sits back in his squishy seat.

                “But he does,” Marco insists, “Jean, tell them. This isn’t just a late April Fools’ joke.”

                Jean nods, though he mutters something about his thoughts apparently not mattering. Marco ignores that.

                “Look, okay, we _did_ try to confront Eren about this,” Marco pleads, “But he ran away from us.”

                “ _I_ believe you,” Mikasa admits. She crosses her arms over her chest, moving out to stand on the other side of Marco.

                “See?” Marco snaps, motioning towards her. “ _She_ believes me.”

                “You’re supposed to be the smart one, Armin,” Jean mutters, glaring at no one in particular.

                “Yeah,” Armin says, “But, he was eating, when we saw him, he couldn’t have changed that much since then. Maybe this is a new thing, and he’s just being stubborn. As usual,” Armin says the last part under his breath.

                “Maybe,” Jean says, “But that doesn’t mean we should just ignore it.”

                “He’s so _thin,”_ Marco adds, “Don’t act like you didn’t notice it.”

                Armin shakes his head. “I mean, no, we shouldn’t ignore this, but, but, he _can’t_ have an eating disorder, do you even know what that _means?_ He’d have told us _something.”_

Mikasa stays silent, staring off at the bookshelves that separate the four from other students. Marco opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by Jean, who half-shouts, “So you’re going to let him die because you don’t believe us? You’re going to let him fucking _die_ because you think we’re playing a prank on you?”

                “What?” Armin squeaks, looking offended, “I-It’s not that, I just, I have a test in four hours, we’ll never make it back in time-“

                “I thought Eren was your _friend,”_ Jean challenges. “I thought you cared about him.”

                “I do-“

                “Not,” Jean glares, “If you did, we wouldn’t even be having this talk, Coconut Head. We’d already be on our way over to him.”

                “Jean,” Marco says, placing a hand tenaciously on his arm, “Don’t you think you’re being a little-“

                “No,” Jean shoves Marco off, “Eren could be _dying,_ hell, what if he’s dead right now? And his two ‘best friends’ don’t even give a shit.”

                “We care,” Armin defends.

                “Armin-“

                “We’ll go,” Mikasa interjects. Armin gives her a look of disbelief.

                “But, the test-“ Armin tries.

                “Good!” Marco cheers, interrupting Armin. He leans down and pulls Armin up, Jean inching towards the exit with Mikasa as he does so.

                Armin hesitates, but he eventually gives in, allowing Marco to lead him outside.

                “How did you even get here?” Armin asks as Marco pulls him, past the parking lots and onto the main streets.

                “Public transportation,” Jean calls out, a good ten feet ahead. He lowers his voice as he says to Mikasa, “I hope you’ve got some money, or else it turns out we’re walking back.”

                “You’re stupid,” Mikasa mutters, but she reaches into her pockets in search of change. She manages to dig out just enough money to pay for a bus, and the four crowd around a bus stop as they patiently await their ride.

                It’s freezing cold outside, and the four are stuck waiting in silence for a good twenty minutes as car after car whirls past them. Marco’s shifting from side to side, trying to warm himself as Jean rapidly jams the button that alerts bus stations that a bus is needed, pronto. Armin and Mikasa send hurried whispers back and forth, attempting to be unheard by Jean and Marco – unsuccessfully, as they can hear every single word being said.

                Armin tries to convince Mikasa that there’s just no way, Eren can’t have an eating disorder. He was so happy, when they saw him, and Jean and Marco are being assholes for playing this game with them. Mikasa argues that Armin’s just in denial, that there’s definitely the possibility of Eren needing mental help, she’s always suspected that something wasn’t right in Eren’s head.

                “God, _fuck me,”_ Jean groans as another ten minutes have passed, still no bus in sight. “Do the buses not run at this time?”

                “Maybe if you’d stop pressing the button-“ Mikasa tries, but she’s interrupted by Marco’s gleeful relief.

                “A bus! There it, oh. There it _goes._ ” Marco sighs as their only hope of leaving passes by them, flooding them all with a similar sensation of disappointment and fruitlessness.

                Jean rams his fist against the button once more, attempting to break it, but instead only damaging himself. A string of curses escapes his throat, and he roughly grabs Marco’s arm, nails digging into his skin as he grumbles, “Fuck it, we’re walking.”

                Jean drags Marco, despite him being perfectly capable of walking. Mikasa and Armin keep pace, trying hard not to fall behind.  They’re lucky enough that the constant stream of cars driving by illuminates their path ahead, but the headlights simultaneously blind them as they grow nearer and nearer.

                “Jean,” Marco gasps, “Do you even know the way back?”

                “I’ll figure it out,” he says, determined. Armin suggests that he just pull out his phone and ask for directions, to which Jean says that he doesn’t want to waste battery. And when Marco offers his _own_ phone, a stubborn Jean very reluctantly snatches the phone from him and uses it.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren wakes up to the sound of a soft banging against the door, a quick _pat, pat, pat._ He groans in response, hoping that whoever’s on the other side of the door will get the idea and go the fuck away. Eren sneaks a peek at his alarm clock, though it hurts to crane his neck at such an angle – it’s still early, only 5:23. In the morning. Who the hell is visiting him at _5:23?_

“Eren,” a voice says, “Is that you?”

                Eren shoots up in his bed, a sudden nausea momentarily enhancing his senses and paralyzing him. He does a deep breath in, and back out, calming himself. The nausea passes, but it’s quickly replaced with anxiety, his upper chest throbbing as his heart rate increases and his body heats up. It’s Levi, on the other side of the door, there’s no mistaking that voice.

                “Yeah,” Eren says, legs barely cooperating as he slides down his mattress to stand up. He hates to answer the door in this state, dressed like a slob and probably very closely resembling death – at least, more so than usual – but Levi’s _right there,_ and he _knows_ that Eren’s in here.

                “A moment,” Eren calls, rushing to get dressed. He replaces his boring sweater with an equally lackluster black pullover, completing the look with jeans. He only briefly looks in the mirror, to make sure his hair doesn’t resemble that of a dandelion, before he skitters back to the front door and rips it open to greet Levi.

                “Took you long enough,” Levi mutters, running a hand through his hair. It’s combed backwards, a surprising sight. He’s wearing his usual outfit, his work uniform, and perched in his arms is a bouquet of flowers, flowers that are obviously dying and look as if they won’t last another day without disintegrating.

                “I, what?” Eren asks as Levi shoves the flowers into his arms. Eren looks down at them – he recognizes them, they’re the same flowers that Levi’d caught Eren admiring, the same ones that Levi had plucked a stem from and placed in Eren’s hair. Hibiscus flowers.

                Eren shouldn’t be so willing to forgive Levi, and in fact, he should stand his ground and tell him to go fuck off. He knows he should. But Eren’s a weak, pathetic bastard who can’t stay away from this short man with the coldest glare to ever strike humanity, even if this is the same man whose motives are rather questionable, the same man who'd made Eren feel so bad about himself mere hours ago.

                “I’m sorry,” Levi apologizes, “For what I did earlier. It upset you, and you didn’t deserve that. Now, let me in, brat.”

                Eren steps aside, and Levi’s face morphs into an expression that can only be described as a man seeing the most disgusting thing he’s ever faced in his whole life.

                “Eren,” Levi says, “You live in a garbage dump.”

                Eren laughs nervously, trying to alleviate the air. Levi doesn’t laugh with him. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

                Levi steps in, and he instantly sets to work, bending down to pick up a shirt from the floor. “I’ve never seen a place so _filthy,_ how do you live here?”

                “I didn’t know you were a clean freak,” Eren mutters, closing the door.

                “Get to work,” Levi twirls the shirt around and whips Eren’s side with it, a _snap_ filling the air. “I’m not doing this alone.”

                Eren groans, Levi’s hit sending waves of hurt down his back. He rubs the spot, the stinging of it running up and down his body. Levi pauses, holding a pile of clothing, noticing that he’s actually _really_ hurt Eren. Eren distracts him by showing off his best smile, sucking in his gut and stretching his neck out to accentuate his collarbones.

                “On second thought,” Levi drawls, uncertainty filling his tone, “You go make breakfast.”

                “Breakfast?” Eren says, smile becoming increasingly forced with each passing second. “But I can’t cook.”

                “What do you have here?” Levi asks, setting down the clothing and pulling out a plastic wrapper from it. He cringes.

                “Um,” Eren tries to think fast, but he doesn’t even remember. Jean bought the groceries last time. What would _Jean_ have bought? Probably something stupid, like brand-name energy bars or high calorie smoothies that pretend to be healthy by hiding behind a mask of “real strawberry, avocado, and unicorn meat infused.”

                “Uh,” Eren breathes, “I, I think, maybe we have cereal? I mean, I haven’t checked recently-“

                “That’s fine,” Levi says, turning his attention to the mess before him. “I really don’t care what you prepare. Cereal is fine.”

                Eren’s smile drops. He’s grateful that Levi’s not looking at him right now, because he just knows that his face looks absolutely despairing right now. He runs a hand over his face, trying to scavenge for a way out of this. “I already ate breakfast.”

                “Did you?” Levi looks at him, voice betraying disbelief. “Looks like you’re having another breakfast, then.”

                “But-“

                “Eren,” Levi sighs, “Please.”

                Eren bites his lip. Levi’s not going to give up without a fight, is he? Eren lowers his head and walks over to the small kitchen, fingers trembling as he searches through the cabinets for cereal. He finds some, two boxes, two different brands. He skims over the nutrition labels, trying to determine which one would cause less weight gain – one box has so much sugar, it might as well just _be_ pure sugar. The other one is better, but not by much – it’s twelve grams of sugar per serving, whereas the other one is a whopping fifteen grams. He goes for the twelve grams, 200 calories per serving.

                He digs out two bowls, and a measuring cup. He can feel Levi’s eyes burning into him as he pours the cereal into the cup, trying to get an exact measurement. He has to remove a few bits of cereal to get it right, but he manages to do it, twice – one for Levi’s bowl, once for his. The portions are small, not even bigger than the size of Eren’s fist. Which is good - the less Eren eats, the better.

                Eren turns around, grabbing the milk from the fridge. He still feels like Levi’s watching him, though when he looks up, Levi’s gaze shifts back to his work.

                Eren tries to run his eyes over the nutrition label, careful not to stare too long or Levi might suspect something. He manages to gather that a serving size is one cup, 160 calories per. It’s not horrible, but how much does that add up to be? Eren tries to do the math as he pours the milk into the measuring cup, and he totals out a nice 360. It’s better than what the other cereal would’ve probably totaled out to, but it’s still _way_ over Eren’s calorie limit. He’s not supposed to eat more than 100 calories per day, and that’s if he eats at all. Maybe he can try to eat slowly, so that Levi will finish before he does and he can use that as an excuse to stop munching on his breakfast.

                Eren returns the milk and cereal boxes to their respective places, and fishes out a pair of spoons. He carries the cereal back towards Levi, who takes his bowl and looks down at it, expressionless.

                Eren sits down on his bed, next to the pile of clothing Levi had been working on folding. Levi sits beside him, crossing his legs and leaving just enough space between them that they’re not touching, but if either of them dare fidget a hair, they’d be on top of each other.

                Eren attempts to mimic his movements, trying to cross his own legs, but they fall asleep immediately. They hurt, far worse than the usual falling asleep that his legs do. This is actually _painful,_ and it’s all he can do not to release a groan as he shifts back to having his legs spread.

                Levi doesn’t comment, though there’s no way he could’ve missed the show. He, instead, picks up his spoon and delves into his breakfast, watching and waiting for Eren to mimic _those_ movements.

                Eren does so, eating his cereal one piece at a time. They’re small bits, not even large enough to require chewing, but he does so anyway to waste time.

                “So, why’re you here?” Eren asks, trying to divert Levi’s attention away from possibly noticing his slow eating, “Don’t you have to work today? I think it’s Monday.”

                “I do,” Levi says, “But they’ll be fine without me for a few hours.”

                “Are you sure?” Eren inquires, raising his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you ask?”

                “I already saw Hanji and Erwin earlier,” Levi says bitterly, “I don’t particularly want more communication with them today unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

                Eren has to stifle a laugh. He can’t say that he’s surprised that Hanji actually did it, she _actually_ showed up at Levi’s door so early in the morning and bothered him. Eren hides his laughter by biting on his spoon, drinking up the last drops of milk on it.

                “Eat faster,” Levi mutters, sending a glare towards Eren’s spoon. “At this rate, you’ll still be eating breakfast by the time lunch rolls around.”

                “Ah,” Eren breathes, taking his spoon out of his mouth. He grins at Levi, but no happiness lies behind his cheeks. He scoops up a slightly larger portion of cereal, approximately five pieces of cereal on his spoon.

                Levi sets his bowl down on Eren’s bedside table and reaches out, grabbing Eren’s bowl from him and gripping the spoon in his hand.

                “Open,” Levi says, gathering up so much cereal that it’s overflowing on the spoon.

                “You, you’re not actually going to try to _feed_ me, are you?” Eren jokes, “I’m not five years- ack!”             

                Levi shoves the food into his throat, pulling the spoon out and using his hand to help Eren move his jaw up and down to chew. “You’re awfully pale today,” Levi comments, “Are you okay?”

                “I’m fine,” Eren says, swallowing. “It might just be the lighting.”

                “Perhaps,” Levi hums, feeding Eren another spoonful. His expression grows softer with each spoonful that he feeds, and he leans forward to press a kiss to Eren’s cheek after the last of the cereal is finally gone. Eren fills with dread, he hadn’t even noticed how much he’d been eating – he felt far too much pleasure in Levi’s touch, the way he rubbed his hand against Eren’s face with each spoonful, the way his eyes looked the most caring that they ever have.         

                Levi stands up, gathering the dishes and strolling towards the small kitchen. It wouldn’t be hard for him to find where the dirty dishes belong, there’s a mountain of them building up in the sink.

                Eren’s belly seems to fill with a similar dread, not liking the amount of food that it’s been given. It twists, and Eren tries his absolute hardest not to lunge forward and fall to the ground as sharp pains travel up his abdomen. He wheezes, heavy breaths trying to escape his throat.

                “Eren,” Levi calls, “Are you okay?”

                Eren tries to nod, but he can’t, all he can focus on now is sprinting to the bathroom. He props himself up over the toilet, ramming his thumb against his stomach to quicken the process. Levi rushes in just in time, as Eren empties his belly, choking on the undigested food. Levi puts an arm around his waist, rubbing soothing patterns into his side and leaning his head against Eren’s shoulder.

                “Ca va s'arranger,” he murmurs, “It’ll get better. You probably just ate too fast, it’s fine.”

                Eren coughs, throat scratchy and arms shaking as he tries to stand up again. Levi helps him, half-carrying him back to his bed.

                “Tout ira bien,” Levi says, helping Eren sit down. “Everything will be alright. Now, lie back.”

                Eren does just that, resting his head back against a pillow. He wants to tell Levi thanks, but his throat is sore.

                “I thought you said you were feeling fine,” Levi hums, pulling a blanket over Eren’s body. “Don’t be afraid to talk to me, mon chéri.”

                “I’m not afraid to talk to you,” Eren manages to croak, curling up as Levi climbs over to lie beside him. He clears his throat, which just irritates it even further.

                “Hmm?” Levi challenges, “Alright. That game we played, where I ask you a question and you answer, then vice versa. Let’s play it again.”

                Eren nods, and Levi starts them off, a simple question. “Is your roommate coming back anytime soon?”

                “Probably not,” Eren says, though he’s not even positive himself. He hadn’t checked his phone this morning, so for all he knows, Jean could be just outside the door. He hopes, though, that Jean _won’t_ be back for a while, preferably not until Levi’s gone. Jean likely doesn’t even recognize Levi, he’s grown so accustomed to just walking in and seeing Eren alone, what would he say if he walked in and Eren _wasn’t_ alone? He prays that Jean at least has the decency to not insult the company. “My turn. Did you like your breakfast?”

                Levi sends him a glare, though the slight smirk that accompanies it gives away the fact that Levi’s not truly upset. “It was fine, until I had to see a certain someone throw _their_ breakfast back up.”

                “Sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize,” Levi moves his hands down and picks up one of Eren’s palm, running his fingers over his skin and squeezing him lightly. “I believe this is question three, now. What did you have for dinner last night?”

                “Dinner?” Eren furrows his brows, “I mean, I had the snacks you made.”

                “That’s all?” Levi looks up at him, “What about lunch?”

                “One question per turn,” Eren reprimands him. Levi scowls. “Question four, have you ever been sent to jail?”

                Levi laughs, he actually _laughs_ , and Eren can feel a wave of blush decorate his cheeks as the sound fills the room, his smile an unforgettable sight. “Do I really look like a criminal, Eren?”

                “I, uh, no, it’s just-“ Eren tries to defend himself, but Levi interrupts him.

                “No, it’s fine. I haven’t been sent to jail. Yet,” his laughter dies down, and he waits a brief moment to see if Eren will respond before continuing with their game. “Question five. What did you have for lunch yesterday? And you have to be completely honest, Eren.”

                “ _Completely_ honest?” Eren considers this. He trusts Levi, he really does. Levi’s shown no reason to _not_ be trusted, and the only time thus far that Eren’s truly been upset with Levi, it’s been fixed by Levi arriving at his doorstep with flowers and combed-back hair. Eren almost feels like he could spill all of his worries to Levi right now, and it wouldn’t even matter because he knows that Levi won’t just leave him for it. He didn’t leave when he saw the flesh of Eren’s stomach, he didn’t even tell _Eren_ to leave when he’d shown up at his doorstep at a late hour. He hadn’t shooed Eren away, when he showed up to his restaurant and waited for Levi, talking with Hanji and fueling her curious fire. “Nothing. Question six. How often do you workout?”

                “Three to four times a week. Question seven, what did you eat for breakfast yesterday?” Levi asks, fingers still tickling Eren’s palm.

                “Nothing. Question eight, when did you learn to speak French?” Eren wraps a leg around Levi’s limbs, three layers of cloth separating their skin. Their faces are mere inches from each other, and Eren can swear he feels Levi’s breaths as he exhales.

                “I used to live in France. Not for very long, but the language stuck with me. Question nine. How many meals _have_ you had this past week?”

                Eren has to stop and think about this. He had breakfast just now, that’s one. He had the cream puffs, that’s two. There was the seafood, that’s three. But what else has he had? The days before start to blend together, his memory’s growing weaker and weaker as his mind floods with only memories of food and eating. “Um. Maybe three?”

                “Eren, that’s not healthy.”

                “So?”

                “ _So?_ ” Levi frowns, “You have to _eat,_ Eren.”

                “Fuck off, I don’t need you to lecture me,” Eren unwraps himself from around Levi. He’s not sure what’s gotten into himself, but he hates talking about his body with a passion. It’s horrible, he can’t stand having someone scrutinize him and tell him how to live his life, even if they’re suggesting that he leave the hell that is starvation.

                “Eren, please,” Levi grips his sleeve, preventing Eren from getting too far away. He sits up, crawling so that he’s on top of Eren, and he places his elbows so that they’re next to Eren’s head. He places his knee between Eren’s legs, resting the tip of his nose against Eren’s. “We have to address this sooner or later.”

                “I choose later,” Eren says, trying to squirm his way out from under Levi.

                “And I choose now,” Levi halts his movements with a jab of his knee to Eren’s thigh. Eren winces, and he can tell that the feeling’s leaving his leg as Levi presses his knee harder against Eren’s body, leg falling asleep.

                “I don’t want to talk about it.”

                “I don’t care what you _want,_ ” Levi reprimands, “Have you ever thought that, maybe, by starving yourself, you’re hurting the people _around_ you too?”

                “Get the hell off of me,” Eren tries, wriggling away from Levi until he’s able to throw him off the bed. It takes all of the force inside Eren, but he manages to topple Levi over, a loud _thud_ as he hits the ground.

                Eren sits up, crossing his arms. He can’t help but feel like he’s overreacting, and wet tears stain the blanket below him as he tries to forget about his emotions and all of the self-hatred that flooded back into his veins as Levi pushed him to admit that he’s in the wrong and that he’ll change.

                Levi gets up and sits back down next to him, wrapping his arms around the currently sobbing Eren, who, deciding that it’s too late now to deny the fact that he’s crying, lets the whimpers and sniffles of his tearful orchestra fill the silence. Levi whispers foreign words to his ears, Eren only vaguely recognizing a few of the phrases.

                Eren snuggles his damp cheeks against Levi’s shoulder, stuffing his nose against the crook of his neck and keeping his hands busy by pulling at the loose strings of his pullover. He’s drawn to Levi in a way he can’t explain, because even though Levi’s adamant about not letting Eren have his way, he’s still been so nice to him in other respects. It’s just going to take some convincing, that’s all – Eren’s going to have to figure out a way to make Levi see things the way that he does, so that Levi will be fine with Eren skipping a few meals here and there.

                Levi takes Eren’s hand again, tugging it close to his lips. He presses a tender kiss to his fingers, following it up with another one to the back of his hand, and another one to his wrist. He pulls back the sleeve until it’s at Eren’s forearm, and he completely disregards the presence of the dark red scars on Eren’s arms as he presses his lips on them, one kiss after the other. The further up Levi goes, the further Eren realizes just how infatuated he’s become, and his sobs die down, bringing with them the regret he’d been feeling and the anger he’d built up. He can’t stay mad at Levi, Levi’s proven himself too kind, however stoic he may be.

                Levi carefully pushes Eren back, until he’s on top of him again. He pushes aside the blanket, revealing Eren’s body. He slips his hands under Eren’s pullover, helping him out of it and tossing it to the side, where it accompanies the clothing Levi had been previously working towards getting put away. He then slides his own shirt over his head, setting it down next to Eren’s discarded pullover.

                Levi runs his hands up and down Eren’s body, pulling his abdomen up until their chests are pressing together and Eren’s back is arched. A low moan escapes Eren’s throat, and Levi uses that as encouragement, tongue swiping out to lick against his collarbones and suck on his skin affectionately.

                Levi caresses him so gingerly, it’s almost as if he thinks that one wrong move will snap Eren in half. One hand runs the length of Eren’s spine, following its exact path and scratching loving marks into his skin. The other hand helps keep Levi up, nestling itself into the blanket beside the two.

                Eren would like to say that he’s surprised, surprised that he’s in this situation, shirtless and moaning as a man feels up and down his body, surprised that said man thinks he’s so beautiful and so _worth it,_ as he’s said countless times before, using his words and his actions to express himself. But Eren’s not surprised by this anymore. He almost expects it, because Levi’s quick to treat him like royalty, quick to tell Eren how beautiful he is, and quick to apologize for so much as making Eren frown.

                Eren has no doubt anymore. Nobody’s ever treated him like this before, nobody’s ever tried so hard to please him and shower him with so much affection. Nobody’s ever tried to get this close to him, to feel his skin and kiss his squishier parts. And Levi does just that, kisses going to Eren’s tummy, to his arms, to his chest, to his neck, to just about every surface imaginable, biting at his collar and below his ears.

                Levi sets Eren down, moving his hand from Eren’s back to go up and mindlessly brush through his hair, pulling his head to just the right angle for Levi to press their lips together. Eren moves with Levi, wrapping his legs around the man’s waist, arms gripping his neck and mouth moving as it dances with Levi’s lips.

                Levi pulls back just long enough to murmur, “Condoms, do you have any?”

                Eren pauses. He knows _he_ doesn’t have any, he never thought that anybody would want to have sex with _him._ And Jean probably doesn’t have any, at least not in their apartment, because that would mean that he’d have to actually stick around here for longer than a minute while Eren’s away. Assuming that the poor bastard even lasts that long in bed.

                “No,” Eren sighs, relaxing his muscles. Levi nods, grabbing his shirt from where it lay on top of Eren’s pullover. He pulls his shirt back on, pushing Eren back when Eren tries to retrieve his _own_ shirt.

                “I’ll run to the store and get some, alright? You just wait here,” Levi says, adjusting his collar. He presses one last kiss to Eren’s lips, before heading towards the door.

                “Wait, Levi,” Eren says, sitting up, “Your jacket, it’s here if you want to use it-“

                “I’ll only be gone for a second,” Levi reassures him. He turns the knob to the door, opening it.

                “Levi?” Eren asks, and part of him hopes that Levi doesn’t hear him. He’s not so lucky, though, as Levi turns around, halfway out the door.

                “Yes?”

                “I love you.”

                "Moi aussi, je t'aime.”

                “What?”

                “I love you, too.” And with that, Levi closes the door behind him and departs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! <3
> 
> Also, you should totally check out this amazing video that an amazing person made for this fic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yl59V7oLBj4


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How scandalous!

                Levi runs into a nearby gas station – the last place on earth he ever wants to be, it’s _filthy_ – and hunts through the aisles, looking for his treasure.

                Few people are present, which Levi is thankful for. There’s only the man behind the cash register – a distraught-looking guy who easily towers over everything in sight, sweat pouring down his forehead like a damn firehose – and someone else, obviously not an employee, sits next to him on a stool. They pay no mind to Levi’s presence, engrossing themselves in a conversation with each other that Levi can’t and doesn’t care to hear.

                Levi manages to find the condoms, right size and even lemon-flavored, because Eren’s asshole definitely needs to be filled with only the finest of dicks. Levi picks up a box. He quickly examines it before realizing, he needs lube too. Eren’s a virgin, that much is clear by the nervous way he acts, and Levi would be a dickbag not to make the experience as comfortable as possible for his Paper Thin Beauty.

                Levi steps back, scanning the rows of luxuries and cheap trinkets. He spots a bottle – it’s small, no larger than Levi’s palm, no doubt, and likely only good for one, or if he’s lucky, two uses. He’s about to reach for it, when a tap on his shoulder sends him whirling around.

                “Hi, Levi.” Petra, a short, strawberry blonde woman chimes, standing on her tippy toes for a brief moment to emphasize her joy.

                “Hello, Petra,” Levi drawls. He doesn’t particularly mind Petra, she’s _far_ less annoying than her partner, Oluo, but Levi really hadn’t counted on running into anybody he knows at a gas station at, what, five or six in the morning on a goddamn _Monday_.

                “What’re you doing-“ Her eyes wander down to the box of condoms in Levi’s hands, “Oh.”

                “Hm,” Levi grunts passively, hoping Petra will get the hint and go the fuck away. She doesn’t.

                “Large?” she teases, “Are you sure you’re-“

                “Petra,” Levi stops her, “Why are you here?”

                “Oluo’s being difficult,” she sighs, “So I came here as an excuse to get away from him while he calms down.”

                “Why did you come _here_?”

                “I wanted a candy bar.”

                Levi blinks. He hadn’t considered it, but he should buy _Eren_ a candy bar too. Would he appreciate it? Or would he throw a fit? So far Eren hasn’t been too reluctant to eat what Levi forces upon him, though he fears that now that Eren knows Levi’s aware of his eating problems, Eren will more openly reject the offering of food.

                Petra moves over so that she can look over her options, picking out a thin bar of chocolate. She gives Levi a bright smile.

                “So,” she says, inching towards the front counter, “Who’s the lucky gal?”

                “Not a girl,” Levi says simply, “And you don’t know him.”

                “Ah,” Petra voices, taken slightly aback. “How do you know that?”

                “You’ve never mentioned him to me.”

                “Doesn’t mean I don’t know him,” she digs through her purse, likely looking for a few dollars.

                “Does the name _Eren_ ring any bells?”

                “No,” Petra sighs, leaving Levi as she goes to pay for her item. Levi uses that moment of freedom to snatch the bottle of lube – which, oh look, is lemon-scented too – and the biggest, fattest chocolate bar he can find. Damn if Eren’s not a spoiled brat.

                Petra skips back over, receipt and candy in hand. She notices Levi’s expanded collection of things to buy, and her eyes widen momentarily. She blinks before saying, “Uh, I guess I’ll be leaving now.”

                Levi nods, trying to look less embarrassed than he really is. He honestly doesn’t need Petra knowing about his lemony sex life. She makes no further comment, though, carrying her belongings out of the double doors with her.

                Levi checks his watch. How long has he left Eren waiting for? He uses that as inspiration to hurry the hell up, and he really doesn’t even give a shit that he pops a full boner to the thought of Eren’s sweet ass as he pays for his selection.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren lies back, the feeling of Levi’s touch still sending shivers down his back and waves of pleasure over his skin. Eren almost wishes that he’d never cut, it’s just one more imperfection that he has to deal with. One more series of flaws that he burdens on Levi to care for.

                Eren wriggles out of his pants, wanting to be ready for when Levi returns. He remains in only his boxers, the cool apartment air chilling him. He writhes, desperate for more Levi, more pallid skin feeling up his body, more tender kisses pressing against his flesh, more nails pulling at his bones and more body heat to warm him up.

                Eren halts his movements, hearing his phone buzz. He follows the sound of it, which leads him into the bathroom, where he digs through his pants from the night before – the pants he’d placed over his scale – finding his phone in the back pocket of the pants.

                Eren reads over the text message that displays on it – it’s from Marco, who says that he’s coming over soon, and he’s “briging sum company ;)).”  Eren’s not sure he likes the idea of that.

                He groans out of frustration, and rushes back into his pullover and jeans. He hopes that Levi arrives before Marco; he doesn’t want to have to explain why there’s a short, angry waiter holding a box of condoms at his front door.

                Eren sits on the edge of his mattress, waiting to see how fate will play its cards. Seconds go, turning into minutes, and the anxiety builds inside Eren, worse with each passing moment. His heart twists in his chest, tightening, his belly releasing nervous noises and hungry growls. His legs won’t stay still, and he wraps his arms around himself, cheeks flushing from his unease.

                He’s not even sure why he’s so nervous all of a sudden. Is this a result of Marco threatening to bring company over, people he fully expects to get along with Eren, people who he expects Eren to converse with? Eren used to be a social butterfly, but now he’s nearly in tears over the thought of the expectations that are to be put over him by people who he doesn’t even have a name for yet. Expectations that he has to meet, or else Marco will be disappointed in him, and there’s no sight worse than an angel frowning. Eren doesn’t need any more reason to hate himself.

                Every second weighs heavier and heavier on Eren’s shoulders, until his face is on fire and cool tears are decorating his tan cheeks.

                Eren doesn’t have a problem talking to people. He wasn’t too nervous, talking to Hanji, or meeting Levi for the first time. But this is too much, too fast, Eren’s not able to prepare himself. When he talked to Levi and Hanji, he was prepared. And he was fine, talking to the little blond girl he’d ran into on the street while he was trying to escape Jean and Marco’s questioning, because he knew he’d never meet her again, he knew she’d never again be subjected to his awkwardness and his horror. To have to stand in front of one more person, to have to have their eyes run up and down his body as he desperately tries to subtly conceal his fat – sucking in his gut, spreading his thighs, wrapping his arms around his belly – taking notice of his every flaw, of the muffin top that sneaks over his jeans, the poof of his cheeks. And, knowing Marco, if he’s bothering to bring these people over to talk to Eren, it’s likely that Eren will have to see them again after today. And again, and again, and again, and Eren can’t take it. He can’t stand it, it’s too much. Too many people have scrutinized him. Too many people have thought bad things about him.

                Painful sobs wrack through Eren’s body, grotesque cries filling the air at a frighteningly loud volume. There’s no doubt that the neighbors can hear him, but as always, they choose to do nothing. Because Eren doesn’t deserve their help and their concern.

                His stomach folds over itself, his back hunching as the rain of his eyes pat against his legs below him. His neck is wet, the collar of his shirt becoming soaked. His eyes hurt, brain becoming lightheaded. Eren wraps his fingers around his wrist, clawing at his scars in a feeble attempt to hurt himself. He can’t pull out his knife, there’s no time. What if Marco, or worse, _Levi_ walks in to see him cutting? _That_ won’t end well.

                He makes himself bleed, open wounds stinging with the beads of fresh blood. It hurts like a bitch, his arms shaking, vision blurring until all he can see are the half-moon imprints of his nails indenting his flesh.

                Eren pulls his wrists up to his face, pulling down the sleeve of his pullover. He clenches his teeth onto the cloth, unleashing a guttural scream. Why are people so judgmental? Why can’t they look past what Eren has to offer physically, just long enough to get to know who’s inside the fat sack of shit?

                Eren sobs. There’s no getting past his flaws. His flaws are what make him, and there’s nothing about himself worth loving.

                Why does Levi love him? _Does_ Levi love him? He said he did. But why, then, is he taking so long to come back? He couldn’t have gone far, what he’d left to go get is something that can be found nearly everywhere. Was it all bullshit? He’s probably gone, for good. Eren wouldn’t blame him. It’s just unfortunate; Levi had to make his getaway right as Eren was willing to admit that he loves him. Maybe that’s what Levi wanted, all along. To toy with Eren’s emotions until he’s here, bawling his eyes out and getting closer and closer to wanting to kill himself.

                Eren wipes his face off with his sleeves, attempting to regain his composure. Everything hurts, but these days, everything _always_ hurts. His wrists, his legs, his arms, his back, his shoulders, his belly. Everything.

                Eren takes a deep breath. He can do this. It’s only a few minutes. If Marco shows up first, good. Eren can use Levi returning as an excuse to leave when he shows up. If Levi’s first, all the better, he can leave before Marco even shows up.

                Assuming, of course, that Levi’s coming back. Eren wants to believe he will, but a little devil inside him whispers soft words of, “no, he’s not coming back,” and, “looks like you’re all alone again.” Eren’s compelled to believe those words.

                Eren hasn’t felt so lonely since his mother died. When she did, he’d locked himself in his room for days, and if Mikasa hadn’t dragged him out, days would’ve changed to weeks. Eren’s dad didn’t care; he would’ve just let Eren rot away in a pile of his own tears and self-loathing.

                Eren’s father used to be so kind. He was a saint, until his wife died. Then it seemed like he’d just completely forgotten about Eren, only ever stopping to say “hello,” or “good morning,” sometimes, if Eren was lucky. The only thing Eren’s father ever did for him after that was provide him with shelter.

                Mikasa and Armin were there for him, they tried to help heal the emotional wounds. But they never made an attempt to truly _fix_ anything, there was only so much that they could do at such a young age. Even Mikasa couldn’t do much, the girl who seemingly feared nothing.

                Eren tried to keep quiet about his problems, but having to see his father, every single day, walk by him without so much as a glance, it hurt. It still hurts, to think about it. It hurt the most, when Eren came home from school one day and found out that his father had died of a heart attack.

                Armin was quick, then, to deliver the news that Eren might be able to move in with a guy named Jean while he tries to figure out where to go from there, in his life. Eren happily jumped on the offer. He’d used the time spent packing his bags to get away from the thoughts of his father, but they always managed to creep back to him at the worst of times. Eren managed to work up the courage to greet his new living mate cheerfully, and he’d even been so confident enough to make his attire that of a carefree teenager – tank top, leggings, sunglasses on his head. He tried, so hard, to turn his life around for the better. It took less than a week for Eren to find out how much of an asshole his new roommate was, but at least he didn’t _ignore_ Eren. Silence is one of his greatest fears.

                It’s so hard, now, to think, Mikasa and Armin haven’t talked to him in days. They haven’t bothered to check up on him.

                They’ve stopped caring. They must have.

                Eren’s used up all of their love, selfishly. And now there’s no more for them to give him.

                Eren could lie and tell Marco that he has a dentist appointment, providing a good excuse to sneak away. He’s not sure that he’ll believe it, but something is better than nothing.

                Eren closes his eyes, counting to ten in his head over and over, trying to rid himself of all thoughts. He needs a level head for when they, whoever _they_ is, show up. He reaches a hand up and feels his cheeks – they’re still hot. He bites his lip, focusing only on the numbers as he rolls through them in his mind.

                One. Two. Three.

                There’s a shuffling outside. It’s gone, though, before Eren even registers what it is.

                Four. Five. Six.

                More shuffling. Louder this time.

                Seven. Eight. Nine.

                It’s right outside his door now. Eren’s heart pounds a little faster, and he feels like he’s drowning.

                Ten-

                The door swings open, an eccentric Jean dancing into the room with Marco around his arm. In with them follow two familiar faces, a blond boy with an uneasy smile and a raven-haired female with a scarf draped over her shoulders.

                “Hi, Eren,” Mikasa greets him, making steady strides towards him.

                “Wow,” Armin hums, walking in behind her. “You guys really _don’t_ know the concept of cleaning up, do you?”

                Eren’s mouth drops open. Marco’s “company” turns out to be _Mikasa and Armin?_ Why are _they_ here? Eren had _just_ managed to convince himself that they didn’t care about him anymore. When he’d woken up, day after day, and checked his phone to no avail, his heart had sunken just a little bit more each time. It was wishful thinking, hoping that maybe he’d see a message from Mikasa or Armin, even if it’s as simple as “hello.”

                “Fuck off, Coconut,” Jean glares at Armin. He flings himself onto the bed beside Eren, a little too close for comfort, shoving off the loose clothing that had been placed there when Levi went to town with his folding.

                “Uh,” Eren croaks out, “Hey.”

                Armin grins at him, smile matching that of Marco’s. Marco leans back against the wall, stretching his arms out in front of him.

                Mikasa takes her own place on the other side of Eren, even closer than Jean, leaving Eren with absolutely no wiggle room. He almost wants to shove the both of them away, but he’s not sure that he should, in fear that Mikasa and Armin are on edge with him. He can’t lose them.

                “So, Eren,” Jean starts, leaning back to prop himself up with his arm. “How’s it going?” He talks with a sort of sarcasm, as if he knows that Eren’s bothered right now.

                “Fine,” Eren lies, uncertainty creeping into his tone. Armin’s smile falls so slightly, and Marco’s expression completely morphs into one of pure concern.

                “Hey, Eren,” Marco all but whispers, “I know this is sudden, and you’re probably wondering why we brought Mikasa and Armin over.”

                Eren doesn’t say anything, encouraging Marco to continue. Marco nervously wrings his hands together, trying to buy time. Jean speaks up for him.

                “Listen,” he says, “We brought them over ‘cause your fat ass doesn’t know how to take care of itself.”

                Marco freezes, looking over at Jean with disbelief. Armin’s eyes widen slightly, and Mikasa doesn’t do anything, though Eren swears he can feel a cold breeze come from her direction. He’s inclined to ignore it, but ignoring _it_ is impossible – the fact that everyone around him is offended by what Jean had said about Eren, as if they take personal offense to it as well. Eren feels a sort of hope grow in him.

                “Jean,” Marco grits his teeth, “Please tell me you did _not_ just say-“

                Marco’s interrupted by the door opening, hitting him square in the face. In walks a very relaxed Levi, holding a bottle, a box, and a candy bar. He looks, first at Eren, then at his company, taking in their individual faces. It takes him a moment to register what he’s just intruded on, and Eren can’t tell whether Levi’s embarrassed or not.

                “Who the fuck are you?” Jean says, sitting up and putting a hand on Eren’s shoulder. Eren tries to subtly knock it off, but Jean tightens his grip.

                “Who the fuck are _you?”_ Levi shoots back, crowding his items into his left hand so that his right is completely empty.

                “Uh,” Eren says, drawing attention to himself, “This, this is, uh, Levi, this is Jean, my roommate, and this is Marco, Mikasa, Armin,” he points to each person, respectively, “And they’re making a surprise visit. They’re my friends.”

                “Oh,” Levi’s shoulders droop.

                “Eren?” Armin says, “This guy, who is he?”

                “This is Levi,” Eren introduces, “He’s my… boyfriend, right?”

                “Right,” Levi nods, winking at Eren. Eren’s cheeks turn a light pink.

                Jean’s mouth drops to the floor. “Holy shit, I didn’t think _that_ was the reason you’ve been gone all the time, Eren. Didn’t know it was possible for a _walrus_ like you to get a date.”

                Marco comes out from behind to door, rubbing his nose. “Jean, don’t say that-“

                “What did you just say?” Levi squares up, eyes turning a murderous shade of black.

                “Huh?” Jean looks genuinely confused.

                Levi stares him down, eyebrows knitting together. Jean shrinks back, uncertain of what he should be doing.

                “ _What did you say?”_ Levi persists, voice louder and more demanding this time. Jean tries to conceal his wince, and Eren’s almost convinced that he’s the only one who saw it, judging by the others’ faces.

                Eren feels compelled to step in, to stop Levi before things turn ugly. He can’t stand the thought of anyone, even _Jean,_ having to go through pain like Eren’s felt. He wants to absorb everybody else’s pain and keep it for himself, because nobody deserves to be hurt. Nobody but Eren, Eren’s a fool. Even the reincarnation of Lucifer sitting beside him doesn’t need to feel like he’s worthless.

                “I, I, uh, which part?” Jean tries his hardest to keep up his tough demeanor, but Levi moves closer to him and rolls up his sleeves just enough to reveal muscles that would rival an athlete.

                “The last part. You know,” Levi knits his eyebrows together, “Where you just called Eren a, what was it?”

                “A… a walrus?” Jean squeaks.

                Levi reels his arm back, and Eren lunges out of his seat to stop him. He wraps himself around Levi’s free arm, making the older man stumble backwards and nearly fall over.

                “Putain,” Levi grumbles, “Fils de pute, fils de pute,” he chants.

                Marco rushes over to Jean’s aid, while Mikasa and Armin look awkwardly on. Mikasa has on her curious expression, though Eren only knows this because he’s known her for years. She’s likely pondering, trying to figure out if she should step in or let things play their course. Armin’s just astounded by the display before him.

                “Levi,” Eren coughs, “Calm down, please.”

                “Merde,” Levi sighs, pulling away from Eren’s grip on his arm. “Eren, come with me.”

                Levi grabs Eren’s elbow and drags him out the door. Mikasa stands up and tries to follow them, but Levi makes it a point to shut the door on her face and fast-walk the fuck out of there.

                They scramble down the stairs together, and Eren has to stop for a breather at the bottom. Levi helps hold him up, wrapping his arms around Eren’s body to keep him upright.

                “Breathe in,” Levi guides him, “Breathe out.”

                “I’m fine,” Eren gasps. They didn’t even run very fast. “Just, let’s keep moving, yeah?”

                Levi reluctantly agrees, allowing Eren to stand up by himself. He then moves in front of him and faces away from Eren, leaning his upper body forward, arms extended slightly at his sides.

                “Hop on,” he says, “I’ll carry you.”

                “Huh?” Eren questions, “But won’t people-“

                “Who gives a shit what they think?”

                Eren blinks. Levi’s not _wrong,_ it’s just unexpected. He climbs onto Levi’s back, where Levi grabs hold of the back of Eren’s knees. Eren rests his chin on Levi’s shoulder, arms going to wrap around the older man’s neck.

                “Mince,” Levi hums, “You’re so light.”

                “Am I?” Eren wonders. It’s odd, but he’s inclined to believe Levi. Maybe Eren isn’t so fat after all. Has Eren been _wrong_ about himself, all this time? No, that’s ridiculous. Jean literally _just_ insulted his weight, twice. How could he possibly think that he’s not-

                “Of course,” Levi reassures, “So beautiful, too.”

                Eren blushes. “Not as gorgeous as you, though.”

                “So you’ve finally started flirting back?” Levi teases.

                “Shut up,” Eren nuzzles his face into Levi’s neck.

                “No, please, I like it,” Levi says. “Talk dirty to me, mon chéri.”

                “Oh, Levi,” Eren groans, “That’s so _lame,_ we’re in public.”

                “Hush, if you whisper it, nobody will know,” Levi persists.

                “Not even when you’re sporting a boner?”

                “Confident prick,” Levi murmurs, “You think you’re so good?”   

                “I, no, but-“

                “Let’s see it.”

                “No.”

                “Why?”

                “I’ve never done it before,” Eren admits, shyly rubbing his nose against the skin of Levi’s neck.

                “So?” Levi says, “You have to start somewhere.”

                “But I don’t have to start _here,_ ” Eren pleads.      

                “Fine, be that way,” Levi gives up.

                They walk in a comfortable silence back to Levi’s home, Eren fighting to keep himself awake. His head bobs limply against Levi’s back, and he actually does fall asleep, several times, until he’s woken up by his own snoring. Levi makes a comment about it once, making fun of the struggle going on behind him. Eren sticks his tongue out at him, despite Levi not being able to see it, and also despite him not having the strength to hold his head up in his fatigue. His face plunges forward, making him drool against Levi’s shoulder and bite his own tongue. That manages to wake him up, but only for an extra moment.

                It isn’t until Levi’s digging through his pockets for his keys that Eren, once and for all, drifts off and stays asleep.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren is fucking beautiful.

                He lies back on Levi’s mattress, eyes closed and mouth partially open. His arms are spread at odd angles, as well as his legs, leaving Levi very little room to actually sit beside him. Eren’s snoring, very lightly, just enough that it reassures Levi that Eren’s snoozing and not dead.

                Eren’s neck is exposed, the bites that Levi had left earlier finally making an appearance. There’s a bruise just below his earlobe, and another one painting one of his collarbones. It’s like a work of art, to see Eren’s skin tainted with Levi’s markings.

                Levi would like to be able to fall asleep here, with arms wrapped around Eren’s thin body, but he’s always had trouble falling asleep.

                Levi shifts, throwing an arm over Eren’s body. He pulls the boy closer to him, resting his own face against an unruly pile of brown hair. He runs his fingers through it, pulling out loose strands and leaving kisses against Eren’s forehead for each fallen piece of hair.

                Eren needs to eat. He _needs_ to. He so closely resembles a starving child, Levi feels a bit guilty for not noticing all of this right away.

                Eren moans, and Levi pulls back to look at his face. His eyes are halfway opened, and he yawns, wrapping his arms around Levi’s waist.

                “Good afternoon,” Levi murmurs. Eren’s limbs tighten around his body.

                “What time is it?” he says, drawling out his words.

                Levi checks his watch. “4:32.”

                “Already?” Eren looks up at Levi with surprise, though it’s a sleepy surprise.

                “You slept for a long time.”

                “Did _you_ at least get some sleep, too?”

                Levi pecks Eren’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, Eren,” he whispers, “I do enough worrying about you for the two of us.”

                Eren ignores that, moving away from Levi and stretching. “I can’t believe you let me sleep for so long.”

                “What, did you _want_ me to wake you up?”

                “No,” Eren admits, “But I didn’t think you’d just want me here sleeping.” He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, cringing at whatever it is that he sees on the screen. He tosses it forward, where it bounces on the mattress.

                Levi takes the opportunity and pulls Eren back, pinning him to the mattress. He rolls on top of him, knees on the bed beside Eren’s thighs, arms wrapping around and running the length of his thin back.

                Eren, in his sleepy haze, reaches up and clutches Levi’s neck, mashing their lips together. He moans at the contact, squirming under Levi’s touch.

                Eren claws at his neck, legs glued to Levi’s hips. He gasps under the brushing of Levi’s fingers, going over the small of his back and running the waistline of his jeans. Levi removes himself from Eren’s torso just long enough to tug Eren’s pullover off of his body.

                “We won’t be interrupted this time,” Eren says as Levi shrugs off his own shirt, “Will we?”

                “Not even if we get overrun by man-eating giants,” Levi promises, kissing the back of Eren’s hand.

                Eren, seemingly fully awake now, reaches down and starts to unbutton his jeans. Levi helps him out of them, skin kissing Eren’s hipbones.

                “So fucking beautiful,” Levi hums, palming the top of Eren’s legs.

                “Am I?”

                “Of course.”

                “You’re not just saying that?”

                “No, Eren,” Levi reassures, “Mon chou. You’re beautiful.”

                Eren considers this for a brief moment, before attacking Levi with a new ferocity, moans becoming louder and needier as he presses his lips to Levi’s neck. Levi tries to please his now very excited lover, rubbing his hardening dick against Eren’s inner thigh, hands roaming all of the exposed skin and squeezing what little _isn’t_ exposed. Eren willingly lifts his hips off of the mattress, gaining more friction.

                “I fucking love you,” Eren says, pulling his underwear off.

                “I love you, too,” Levi follows suit.

                Eren’s phone buzzes, rather loudly, and Eren outright ignores it. He goes so far as to hunt it out with his foot and knock it off the bed, where it hits the carpet with a _thud_.

                “You _really_ think I’m beautiful?” Eren asks.

                “Mon trésor, you’re absolutely _stunning._ I don’t understand why you can’t see that.” Levi reaches out and grabs the lube from where he’d placed it next to what used to be Eren’s sleeping form. He uncaps the lid and squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers. It’s cool, though not so that it would be uncomfortable.

                Eren shifts, his ribcage expanding as he breathes in a shaky breath. Levi makes an attempt to appease him by placing a kiss on his tummy, just above his belly button.

                “Nervous?” Levi chuckles, trying to alleviate the air. Eren nods, flushing.

                Levi pecks another kiss, higher this time – it’s placed where his stomach slopes sharply upwards, transitioning into his ribs.

                Levi uses Eren’s gasp as the go-ahead, slipping a finger into Eren’s entrance. Eren immediately reels his head back and moans, wriggling around Levi’s finger.

                He’s tight, clenching around what little Levi’s put inside of him. Levi’s been with other people before, plenty of them, but none of them have been so undeniably attractive and downright _sexy,_ none of them have rolled their hips with such a natural passion and spread their legs so wide for him when all he’s done is put one finger inside.

                It’s not even the physical attraction that’s keeping Levi going, anymore – it’s the cute nervous stutters, the soft laugh of Eren’s voice, the little comments he makes. It’s the way Eren cuddles up into anything willing to expand its arms to him, and the annoying stubbornness that he has towards being told what to do. His determination, it’s admirable, albeit the thing driving Eren further and further away from being perfectly healthy.

                Levi moves his finger back and forth and around, stretching Eren open and coating his entrance with lemon-scented lube. It’s not a strong smell, though Levi doesn’t mind – he’d much rather be smelling _Eren_ right now.

Eren whimpers, pleading for _more, more, more._ Levi complies, inserting another digit and taking immense pleasure in the vulgar moan Eren exclaims in response.

                “Fuck, Eren,” Levi grunts, scissoring his fingers slowly and carefully. He feels around the inside of Eren’s body. “So fucking _tight.”_

“Th-that’s good, ah, right?”

                “It’s _perfect,”_ Levi confirms.

                Levi moves his two fingers continually, curling them inside of Eren, making sure Eren’s open enough. He contemplates a third finger, but decides against it, as Eren’s definitely still a virgin and might not be able to handle that much so early. Eren needs _gentle_ loving.

                “Mm,” Eren stifles a disappointed groan as Levi leaves him, fingers out of his ass. Levi leans over and hurriedly grabs a condom, ripping the package open with his teeth and rolling the condom onto his length. He uses the lube still left on his fingers to slick up his dick, making it smooth and just right for Eren.

                He goes over and positions himself perfectly between Eren’s legs, one hand gripping Eren’s razor blade-like hipbones and the other one grasping at his ass. Eren moves his legs up, wrapping them around Levi’s neck.

                Levi smirks. Eren’s so gorgeously laid out for him, cheeks flushed a bright red and sweat lining the length of his hair. His fingers tremble nervously, his eyes wide with a mixture of desire and need. The green of his eyes has changed from a light seafoam to a darker, lustful shade like that of forest trees.

                Levi places a light kiss to Eren’s thighs, right over the darkest and most recent of his scars. Eren flashes him a bright smile.

                “I love you,” he murmurs, looking right into Levi’s ashy eyes.

                “I love you, too, mon ange.”

                “Stop talking in French, I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying.”

                “Stick around with me long enough and you’ll learn it, then.”

                Levi’s hands wander down and spread Eren open, providing him with enough space as he gradually fills Eren up, dick penetrating him. Eren moans as soon as the tip is inside him, noises growing more stressed and erotic with each inch.

                Levi doesn’t put his full length in Eren yet, he can tell that just this much is sending waves of pleasure and sensation through the younger’s body. Eren throws his head back, cock twitching from where it lies flat against his stomach. Levi grunts as he pulls out, Eren tightening around him as if asking him not to go.

                Levi pushes himself back in, harder and more rapidly this time, more of himself entering Eren. And by the way that Eren nearly screams as he does so, Levi can tell that Eren quite likes the force that Levi exerts.

                “You’re okay?” Levi asks, pulling out again.

                “Yeah,” Eren hurriedly says, nodding his head hastily. “Yes, of course, oh _fuck-_ “                

                Levi thrusts back in, setting up a steady rhythm over the course of the next few minutes. The bed creaks with each movement, Eren’s moaning increasing with volume as the bed does the same. Eren’s spent, within only a couple of moments, cumming over his chest and begging Levi not to stop until _he’s_ done. Which is just enough time for Eren to blow another load and turn to mush under Levi’s constant attention.

                Levi goes slow, not wanting to hurt his delicate Eren. He doesn’t know if this is right, if having sex with someone who’s so broken inside is going to lead said person towards the path of recovery, but it’s too late now. Levi can’t just turn back anymore, and if he did, Eren would think that it’s because he did something wrong. And Levi would be lying, to say that he doesn’t want to fuck Eren until Eren’s hips are sore and his legs are quivering.

                Eren squirms under Levi, looking a combination between infatuated and in an utter euphoria. Levi takes this as a good sign – the last thing he wants to do is hurt Eren. Eren’s experienced enough pain in his life thus far, and it’s Levi’s job to ease the wrong kinds of agony from his Paper Thin Beauty’s life.

                Levi’s pushed over the edge when, finally, after moments of Eren stringing together incomprehensible sentences, he says exactly what Levi’s been waiting for – his _name._

“Uhn, _Levi,”_ Eren groans, eyes glazed over and cheeks a striking pink. He repeats a mantra of, “ _Levi, Levi, Levi,”_ when Levi himself grunts, releasing his own cum inside of his lover. He falls limp, pushing Eren’s legs off his shoulders and removing his length from Eren’s hole. He takes the condom off, tying it and tossing it into a garbage bin by his bedroom door. The thought of just having it _sit_ there for longer than necessary is disgusting, but Eren’s so distractingly stunning beneath him, his muscles evidently aching and chest heaving rapidly as he comes down from his high.

                Levi lies beside Eren, one arm flung across his lover’s chest. Eren snuggles into his neck, and the two of them just lie there, breathing in one another for who-knows-how-long. It isn’t until Eren’s tummy lets out a baby growl that Levi is snapped back to earth, and he kisses Eren’s nose.

                “I suppose I’ll go make dinner,” he says, sitting up. “You need it, you’re much too thin.”

                Eren sits up after Levi and pushes him back down onto the mattress, “I’ll make it.”

                “Really?” Levi raises his eyebrows. Eren nods, getting up and pulling on Levi’s boxers. Levi’s not even sure if Eren realizes that he’s doing so, but then Eren grabs Levi’s shirt too, and puts _it_ on as well.

                “Yeah!” Eren nearly sprints out of the room, though Levi doesn’t miss the slight wobble in his step as he does so. Levi tries to suppress a smirk at that.

                Levi is, however, pleasantly surprised that Eren’s taking the initiative to fix food, to confront his worst fear and shape it to be his own making. Levi can’t lie – he’s dying to know what Eren can and will make, and he can just feel it, that he’ll unconditionally love it, even if it’s literal garbage pulled from the trash can.

                He’ll love it. Because he loves _Eren._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was like, one of my first times writing smut. Hopefully it wasn't too bad?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren with a flower crown? Yes please.

                Eren hobbles down the stairs, Levi’s boxers drooping low on his waist, hanging on by only the sharp jut of Eren’s hip bones, acting as shelves for the shorts.

                Eren reaches the bottom of the staircase and looks down at himself. Has he _always_ been this _thin_? Just yesterday he was scolding himself for being weak and overweight. But overweight people can’t look down and see their toes, not like _this._ The only thing blocking Eren from seeing more of his feet below him is his bony chest, like a xylophone laid out, wanting to be played.

                Eren hunts out the kitchen, finding it after several moments of mindless roaming. It’s not a particularly large kitchen, but it’s big enough for the necessities.

                He goes to stand in front of the microwave, wriggling around in front of it to take a good look at his body. He pulls the boxers down at the sides to look at his hips, up at the legs to look at his thighs, and he moves Levi’s shirt around, looking at his arms and his sides and the dimples where his hips meet his lower back. He’s so gaunt, how has he never noticed this before?

                Levi’s not wrong, though. Eren _is_ beautiful, in an unconventional sort of way. It’s amazing, how it’s taken Levi’s persistent compliments and showering of love to Eren convince him. Of how “gorgeous” his eyes are, how “perfect” his tan skin and natural eyelashes are. If he’d have known this so long before, how much of Eren’s suffering wouldn’t have even happened? He wouldn’t have ugly scars on his arms, he wouldn’t have a knotting in his tummy where his stomach’s grown weak from constantly asking for food. He wouldn’t have bruises on his legs and arms from who-knows-where, he wouldn’t be graying with each passing day. His hair would be full and luscious, like it used to be. Eren likes being thin, he does, but he can’t stand the idea that, by achieving this level of starvation, he’s managed to hurt everyone around him, including himself. Levi, Marco, Mikasa, Armin, even Jean – none of them deserve to have watched Eren go through this. They don’t deserve the pain of watching someone so clearly dear to them deteriorate and grow to hate himself, grow to want to die with every tick of the clock.

                Why did Eren even think he was ugly in the first place? A name comes to mind, but he hates to put all of the blame on a single soul.

                Jean might be a cunt, but even _he_ doesn’t warrant the blame of making Eren go through such a slump in his life. He contributed to it, surely, but it’s Eren’s fault. He never once told Jean how he felt. All Jean knew was that it hurt, when he called Eren fat, but he couldn’t have known that his words made Eren want to kill himself. Eren never once showed him any sign of what he does behind closed bathroom doors, and if Jean had seen Eren’s cuts, would he have changed his ways? He would have. Eren knows he would have. Because Jean’s not as bad of a person as he might put out there. If he were, he wouldn’t have managed to hook himself such a sweet boyfriend.

                Eren pulls at the loose skin on his stomach. There’s hardly any, and it actually hurts to pinch his skin like so. He fears, for a moment, that it’ll bruise – his skin’s so sensitive, there are still red marks from where Levi’s gripped his body, there are still scratches from where Levi had run his fingers down Eren’s skin.

                He feels around on his cheeks, admiring the way they hollow out and follow the contours of his skeleton. It’s disgusting, it’s atrocious, and it needs to be fixed.

                Because Eren _is_ beautiful. He’s gorgeous. Right?

                He wants to say that. He really does. But so far, only Levi’s ever called him beautiful. Nobody else has uttered the word to him. So, now, he feels that he can be confident. But will that confidence transfer over, when he has to go out in public? And will this confidence last, if and when Levi’s gone? He only really feels this way because he’s with Levi. If it were anybody else in the room over, he’d be here in front of the microwave admiring how _horrible_ he looks.

                He can do this. He _can._ Starting tomorrow, he’s going to have a hearty breakfast, a lunch that would make a sumo wrestler jealous, and he’ll end the day by sharing a dinner with Levi. He knows Levi won’t object to that.

                Eren feels so assured now, and for once he’s not folding in on himself, trying to hide his body and cover his stomach. He doesn’t suck in his gut, he doesn’t spread his legs wider than necessary, he doesn’t extend his neck to accentuate his collarbones. None of that is needed. Eren’s already too thin, in Levi’s eyes. Enough of his bones are already showing off. What _is_ needed is a big meal.

                As if on cue, Eren’s belly rumbles, pain numbing his core and vibrating his already very sore ass. Eren’s not going to start tomorrow. Tomorrow’s too far away. No, Eren starts _tonight,_ with _this_ meal.

                He rummages through drawer after drawer, cabinet after cabinet, and holy motherfucking shit does Levi have a ton of fancy products. What the hell are “ladyfingers?” Why would you want that? There are far too many labels written in what Eren assumes to be French, and he can’t help but wonder how Levi is even getting all of these foreign things.

                To Eren’s pleasant surprise, there’s one thing that he finds that he’s capable of making. Macaroni and cheese.

                It, of course, helps that there are instuctions on the back of the box.  
                Eren immediately sets to work, scrounging for a pot and a spoon – which is when he accidentally knocks an entire cabinet of dishes out onto the floor, where they create an orchestra of noise. Eren swears he can feel Levi glaring at him, despite the older man still being upstairs.

                Eren tries to put the dishes back as quietly and carefully as possible – which, knowing Eren’s luck, just results in many, _many_ more crashes. But he _does_ manage to put everything away. After several unsuccessful attempts.

                After putting water in the pot and setting it on the stove to boil – as per instructions on the macaroni and cheese box – Eren dashes into the dining room. He’d managed to find it while he was meandering around in a desperate attempt to find the kitchen. He tries to set the table, puttin far more utensils than are necessary on napkins in front of Levi and Eren’s designated seats, across from each other at the small round table. He sets two plates down, next to the utensils and in front of their respective chairs. They’re very fancy plates – a gorgeous design of blue and white flowers décor the outer rims. Eren applauds himself for managing to make the table look so appealing, and he hasn’t even finished prepping the food yet.

                Eren returns to the kitchen, buttoning up one of the buttons on Levi’s shirt, the one loosely draped over his shoulders. He rips open the box of macaroni, pouring the noodles into the now-boiling water. He’s about to reach over and ramp up the heat, to speed up the cooking process, when a pair of sculpted white muscular arms wrap around his waist. The arms squeeze him, sending jolts of pleasure of ecstasy through Eren as he leans into the touch.

                Levi kisses the back of Eren’s neck, where his hair recedes into his skin. He tightens his grip around Eren, and Eren returns the favor by pulling his head back far enough to peck Levi’s cheek with a kiss. He rests his hands above Levi’s wrists, fingers dancing across his porcelain skin.

                Eren can’t see exactly what Levi’s wearing, but he’d appearently put on a pair of soft, loose pants – Eren can feel them against the backs of his bare legs, warming him in much the same way that Levi’s arms do.

                “Are _you_ going to eat any of this?” Levi murmurs, nibbling on Eren’s neck, just below his ear.

                “Of course,” Eren says, closing his eyes. Levi does the same, blindly biting marks into Eren’s skin, claiming him for the next few days while they heal, and forever while the memories last. It isn’t until there’s water boiling over that the two finally release their hold on each other.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “So?” Eren excitedly asks as Levi takes the first bite of his macaroni and cheese, “What do you think?”

                Levi chews for a moment, teasing Eren as he decides. “It’s not bad,” he settles on, “For something that came from a box.”

                “So you like it.”

                “I do.”

                Eren’s smile spreads from cheek to cheek, and he takes his own first bite, munching on it slowly. Levi watches him, finding joy in the way his usually rawboned cheeks poof outwards like a chipmunk.

                “Eat faster,” Levi says, nudging Eren under the table with a tap of his foot to Eren’s shin.

                “Is that a command?”

                “Yes.”

                Eren laughs, perhaps the loudest Levi’s heard thus far. He holds back his own smile, though it hard to when Eren follows Levi’s orders and starts to scarf down his food. It’s amusing, albeit disgusting, how he stuffs his mouth and swallows with hardly a thought towards chewing. Though how he eats doesn’t matter, it’s the fact that he _is_ eating that matters.

                Levi’s briefly reminded of Eren’s roommate, Jean, and the day he’d met Eren – the same day he had to watch Jean’s disturbing display of devouring food like he was in a competition. The way Eren eats, it’s much the same – though Levi desperately tries to push that thought aside, because, well, fuck Jean and his stupid haircut.

                Levi and Eren finish their dinner in relative peace, making small talk – in which Eren somehow always manages to forget about the heaping pile of food in his mouth until he opens said mouth to speak and he ends up spitting out a mouthful of noodles. It’s even worse when Eren puts the macaroni back in his mouth and eats it again. Eren’s not getting any more kisses tonight.

                Levi slows down his eating just enough so that Eren finishes before him. He then pushes his plate towards Eren and offers the boy the rest of his food. Eren hesitates, looking up at Levi with puppy eyes, and the growing darkness of the outside is just enough that the artificial lighting inside is brighter than usual, sending shadows that enhance Eren’s boniness. It only encourages Levi towards feeding Eren extra helpings.

                Eren ends up accepting the food, though Levi can tell he’s not too comfortable. It might have to do with the fact that Levi watches him the whole time, or it might have to do with the fact that this is the first time Eren’s eaten so much in so long, whichever it might be, it still leaves Levi concerned. He’s happy beyond belief that Eren’s eating, but it hurts him to know that Eren’s so emotionally damaged that he has to think twice about taking leftovers from someone else.

                “Do you want me to-“

                “I’ll clean up,” Eren offers. Levi raises his eyebrows at Eren’s enthusiasm – hopefully this eagerness doesn’t wear away, Levi wouldn’t really mind having a nice househusband to come home to each day, a house freshly cleaned and someone to happily take away the dirty dishes and full trash bags at the end of the day. Eren stands up, placing a kiss to Levi’s forehead – making Levi nearly melt – and he skips away with the plates and utensils in his arms.

                Levi’s surprised, to say the least. Though he’s much less surprised at Eren’s grace, and more so at the fact that, even after all these days, all these moments they’ve shared, Eren’s still capable of surprising Levi.

                He loves it. He absolutely loves it.

                Levi would never admit it out loud, but he can’t wait. He can’t wait to see how else Eren will surprise him, how gaining weight as he eats more and more will change the way he acts and how so much more confident Eren will be once he gets some more meat on his bones. Levi’s ready, he’s ready to see his Paper Thin Beauty walk around in skinny jeans that actually fit him, legs gorgeously plump as he fills out the pants he likes to wear. Levi’s ready for when Eren won’t think twice about eating an extra serving, for when he’ll willing take, and maybe, one day even go so far as to start stealing Levi’s food.

                Eren can do it. Levi believes in him.

                He believes that, one day, when Eren’s even more beautiful and not a bone is in sight, the two of them can move on to fixing the scars on his arms and thighs. They’re perhaps the foulest part of Eren’s entire appearance, laced with horrible thoughts and perturbing memories. It hurts Levi, to think that at some point Eren felt so worthless that he attached a knife to his flesh in an attempt to cope with the hurt.

                Levi can fix him now, though. He’s fixing his eating problem. He can fix a few cuts. No biggie. All Eren needs is attention. Which Levi can provide plenty of.

                Levi stands up, pushing his chair under the table. He retreats back upstairs, beyond ready for sleep, but Eren comes up to his room not a minute later, and hell if he doesn’t send stimulations right to Levi’s dick. He’s finally revealing the sway of his hips as he moves and the irresistible strut he does – one leg in front of the other - as he walks over to Levi’s bed and hops on it.

                Confidence is sexy. _Eren’s_ confidence is sexy.

                But Levi fears it won’t last. It’s the first time Levi’s seen Eren so self-assured. He’s not so sure that, come morning, Eren will still feel the same way about himself as he does now. Levi’s not sure that Eren will still be willing to eat when the night passes, he’s not sure that Eren will be able to look at himself and cuddle into Levi like he does right now.

                While people are certainly capable of change, Levi understands that it’s never so immediate.

                He can only hope that maybe he’s wrong.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “Eren, I have to go.”

                Eren tightens his hold on Levi’s waist. “No, you don’t.”

                “I _do,”_ Levi says, trying to escape Eren’s clutch. He pulls on Eren’s fingers, which are held firmly to Levi’s shirt, wrinkling it.

                Levi’s standing beside his bed, Eren still on it. Levi had woken up extremely early and gotten dressed for work, and he’d walked over to tell Eren a goodbye. Eren, on the other hand, has far different ideas.

                “You _don’t,”_ he insists, “Just five more minutes?” His voice is muffled, buried against Levi’s stomach. He tries to pull Levi down onto the bed, but Levi refuses to be lured into another cuddle. They had cuddled all night, and it’s unfortunate, but Levi has to go to work.

                Levi manages to push Eren off of him, taking a few steps backwards to make sure he’s out of his reach in case he tries to hold Levi captive again. Eren lets out an angry groan, throwing a very brief tantrum as he throws his face down against a pillow and kicks his legs back. He’s still wearing Levi’s shirt and boxers from last night, though they’re wrinkled and messed up beyond belief due to Levi trying to get some action all night.

                “It’s only a few hours,” Levi reassures him.

                “A few?” Eren groans, “Levi, It’s almost _twelve hours.”_

                “It’s either today or tomorrow.”

                “Tomorrow, then,” Eren pleads.

                “No.”

                Levi strides towards the bedroom door, ready to leave. He pauses before going, to say, “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

                “Fuck you.”

                “I fully expect you to eat something today, Eren.”

                “ _Fuck_ you.”

                “I’ll try to come back early.”

                “ _Fuck you.”_

                “I love you, Eren.”

                “I love you, too.”

                                                                                                ~|~

                Sitting at a table with a bowl of cereal, this isn’t the hard part. The hard part is when Eren has to clear his mind and try not to think about how much he’s eaten and how many calories he’s devoured.

                It’s difficult to convince himself that this is good, that eating is good and that gaining weight is good. He needs to gain weight. Last time he checked, he was 102 pounds. That’s a lot. But apparently, it’s not enough.

                In the midst of their cuddling the night before, Levi had told Eren how much _he_ weighs – 143 pounds. Quite an eye-opener for Eren, who didn’t think it was possible for someone so far above 100 pounds to be so handsome. That, added to the fact that Levi’s shorter than Eren, Eren was much more than aghast to learn this.

                 Eren picks up his spoon. Colorful round flakes of cereal swim around in the milk. It _looks_ delicious, it _smells_ delicious. It probably _is_ delicious.

                Last night, eating had been so easy. He had Levi there to distract him. But Levi’s gone now; he won’t be back until the sun is saying its last farewells.

                Eren can do this, though. He has to be _strong._

                Eren pulls the spoon up to his mouth and bites. It’s not bad, though he eats slowly. The milk is cold, and the cereal is so sugary that he can practically feel the cavities developing in his teeth. He won’t stop eating it, though. He wants to make Levi proud of him.

                Eren picks up his phone from where it was lying next to him, put there when he sat down to eat breakfast. He clicks the button to wake it up, and he slides up on the screen, opening the camera. He positions the phone so that it shows both Eren and the cereal, and he clicks the button to take a picture of himself. Levi’s not just going to have Eren’s _word,_ no, Levi’s going to have actual proof that Eren’s been eating. Proof via selfies of Eren posing with his meals.

                He shuts his phone down and sets back to work. He’s full, way before he reaches the bottom of the bowl, but he trudges on, eating until there’s not a drop of milk left. It feels funny, settling in his stomach, and Eren’s not used to there not being a constant pain in his lower half. He feels oddly satisfied.

                He can’t wait until his next meal. Or, at least, that’s what he tries to say to himself.

                                                                                ~|~

                “So,” Hanji pulls Levi aside, “How’s the cutie?”

                “The who?”

                “The _cutie,”_ she says, “ _Your_ cutie.”

                “You mean Eren?” Levi sighs.

                “Yes!” she excitedly exclaims, “Is he well? I want to see him again.”

                “He’s fine,” Levi says, trying to move away from Hanji. She pushes him back against a wall.

                “No, I want more details,” a fiery glint of passion passes through her eyes, “What is he doing today? Are you going to see him? If you are, I want to come too. Erwin, too, he’d love to get to know Eren! Right, Erwin?”

                “What?” Erwin looks over from where he was stacking condiment bottles in a pyramid, not listening to what Hanji was saying at all. “Yeah, sure.”

                “See?” Hanji gets closer to Levi, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll bet Eren would love to see us, too.”

                “What makes you say that?” Levi passively says, wriggling out from under Hanji’s arm.

                “He likes me.”

                “Does he, now?” Erwin snickers, finally joining in the conversation.

                “He does!” she asserts. “So can I see him? I’d love to talk to him about his skin, it’s very clear for someone in his age group. Tan, too, what ethnicity is he? That might have something to do with it.”

                “If you really want,” Levi gives in, “I’ll bring him here tomorrow.”

                “Oh?” Hanji claps her hands together, “You two seem to be a lot closer than you put out there.”

                “We are.”

                                                                                                ~|~

                Lunch. It’s Eren’s least favorite meal, for no other reason than it being bland and uneventful.

                Eren digs through Levi’s shelves for something to eat – careful to avoid to cabinet containing the mountains of dishes he’d previous caused to collapse the night before – and finds nothing that he knows how to prepare. Some of the items have instructions on the back, like the macaroni and cheese did, but these instructions are far more complicated.

                Eren sighs. It’s stressful enough, having to eat, and now he has to actually learn how to cook? Fuck his life.         

                Eren contemplates going and seeing Levi, and maybe having a meal at his restaurant, but decides against it, as he ultimately doesn’t want to have to get dressed. Though he really wouldn’t mind stealing a pair of Levi’s pants, inhaling the scent of _Levi_ all over his attire.

                Eren walks into Levi’s living room, where he collapses onto the couch, phone in hand. He rolls onto his back, one leg hanging off the side of his seat. Everything is so overwhelmingly _Levi,_ Eren can’t wait until he’s able to put his own markings on the house in the form of pictures, clothing, movies, and similar media.

                He wants to blend himself into Levi’s life, to be the reason Levi looks forward to the end of the day and the reason Levi hesitates to leave in the early mornings. Levi’s so _perfect._ It’s a wonder why a man of such faultlessness chose to take Eren in and strip him of all doubt until he’s on his way towards recovery.

                Eren’s not a burden on Levi. If he were, Levi wouldn’t kiss him with such passion, he wouldn’t initiate the lovemaking and the series’ of compliments that make Eren’s heart beat a little faster each time. Eren’s more of a cuddler, that much is obvious, but Levi never turns him down when Eren goes in for a hug.

                Eren clicks the button on his phone, waking it up again. He has a goal in mind.

                He opens up the Google app, cringing when his search history smacks him in the face. It’s all, “stop eating,” “how to lose weight,” “how to hide self-harm scars on your arms.”

                It’s horrible. Eren doesn’t hesitate to delete it, all of it – he’s only hurting himself, by keeping those searches left in his phone. Eren’s done hurting himself.

                He removes the blog that he’d previously admired with such a passion, he deletes it from his bookmarks. He doesn’t even spare it one last look, because it’s a poison. The first thing you’re taught about poison is to stay away from it.

                Eren would be lying if he said that he doesn’t still want to hurt himself. He does. He still feels drawn to the blade, the knives he knows are hiding out in Levi’s kitchen. He still feels a certain addiction to them, as if cutting himself is a mere pastime.

                Eren would also be lying to say that he really wants to eat lunch. He’d be perfectly fine, skipping this meal and letting the hunger pains return to his lower abdomen and overtake him like they would hours ago. He already misses it, the familiar weakness that makes his legs unbearably sore, the tightness as his body tries so hard to stay alive and fight the malnutrition. He misses lying down and having his belly talk to him, and it’s only been several hours since he was last able to do that.

                Eren closes his eyes, waiting. Hours pass, Eren nearly drifting off to sleep several times before forcing himself back awake. His mind floods with thoughts of his future with Levi, of the events of the days before, and how they all somehow led up to this moment, the moment where Eren’s lying on a strange man’s couch breathing in his impossibly sweet scent.

                It’s, according to Eren’s phone, 3:23 PM before Eren’s tummy lets out its first growl of the afternoon. It’s accompanied by an addicting feeling, a strangely bittersweet hurt that fills Eren’s body with want. Levi’s going to be so disappointed, if he learns that Eren skipped lunch. If he learns that Eren purposefully didn’t eat, when he absolutely could have. Eren could so easily just rip open one of the many packages of food Levi has, and he could down it just the same, even if it’s raw meat. Levi would probably rather live with the guilt of knowing Eren died stupidly of salmonella rather than living with the guilt of knowing he let Eren starve himself.

                Eren ate breakfast. It was sweet, far too sweet, and Eren felt sick to his stomach for hours after. He still feels sick, though this is a different kind of sickness. A mixture between hating himself for being who he is, loving himself for managing to capture the heart of an older man with an odd love for calling Eren beautiful, and hating himself for still feeling compelled towards splitting his skin open.

                Eren groans. Another pang hits him, and it builds from his stomach up to his chest, wrapping it’s coils around his heart. All he has to do is eat, and this will be over with until his next meal. But it’s not that simple. It’s too hard, bringing himself to eat when he’s alone. With Levi, he’s fine, he’ll eat the entire kitchen, floorboards and everything. But alone, when there’s nobody there to tell him he’s still beautiful as he downs a highly fattening sandwich? No, he can’t do it. Breakfast was different. Levi’s memory was fresh in his mind then, having had just left to go to work. How is Eren going to be able to make it through the week? He’d taken a selfie of himself at breakfast to prove to Levi that he’d eaten. What if Levi wants a lunch selfie? Eren could lie, he could take a picture of himself with some random shit he throws together and then just throw away the dish, uneaten. But Eren can’t bring himself to lie to Levi. Levi deserves far, _far_ better than that.

                Eren stands up. Anything is better than just lying here, moping. He might as well do some exploring.

                Phone in hand, Eren ventures around the house. He manages to find the door leading outside, and doesn’t even hesitate to step foot out there. It’s beautiful – lush plants decorate the ground, there’s freshly trimmed grass, and a spacious wooden patio. There aren’t any fences, so Eren doesn’t exactly know where Levi’s yard ends and the neighbors’ yards begin, but it doesn’t seem to matter too much. It’s all stunning.

                Eren walks down the two steps separating the patio from the Earth. His toes make contact with the cool, wet grass. He walks further out into the yard, the soles of his feet kissing the ground as he takes slow steps.

                The air is crisp, the sky a wonderful light shade of blue. Not a cloud in sight.

                There is one tree in Levi’s yard, and it’s teeming with freshly green leaves. The yard doesn’t seem to have a single dead leaf in sight, nor a pinecone or weed. In front of Levi’s neighbor’s patio, though, something catches his eye– it’s a row of flowers, and upon closer inspection, Eren’s heart flips in his chest.

                Eren does a quick dash over to the neighbor’s yard, hopping across wet grass and tainting his feet with dirt. He hopes that nobody’s around to see him, for, not only is he in his underwear, but the neighbor’s might not take kindly to a stranger messing with their flowerbeds.

                Hibiscus flowers. Those are the flowers Levi’s neighbor has planted in his yard, and they seem to be new, as there are still piles of dirt surrounding the stems from where they’d been planted. Eren wonders when they’d been planted, the memories of Levi touching his hair flooding back to him all at once.

                Eren leans down, setting his knees on the ground in front of the flowers. He picks one out, making sure the stem remains long and unbent. He then grabs another one, a different color. He braids the two of them together, weaving the stems until they’re knit closely together. He then pulls out yet another flower, this one a bright pink. He adds it to his creation.

                His mother had been the one to teach Eren how to make a flower crown. She’d spent so many hours with him, sitting in the grass, threading stem through stem as they make their own creations for each other’s head.

                He keeps adding flowers until he’s able to set his new makeshift crown on top of his head. It covers his forehead like a headband, just above his eyebrows. He pulls some of his hair out so that it’s not pinching his head, and he whips out his phone, opening up the camera. He takes a good look at himself.

                Levi’s never lied to him. Eren’s beautiful.

                The flowers look perfect on him, doing his eyebrows a favor and accentuating his best features, concealing his worst with distraction. The flowers do their job, making him look like a divine creature who’d accidently stepped foot onto modern land, when said creature belongs back in ancient times, where several wars would have been started in a fight over who can take the beauty’s hand in marriage.

                Eren wouldn’t want any of them, though. There’s only one man whom he’d willingly marry right now.

                Eren stands, turning back to go inside. He’s met with the bewildered eyes of one of Levi’s neighbors exiting his house  – a fair-heighted man with bleach blond hair – who’s staring at Eren like he’s just found an actual, real-life alien. And that is when Eren makes a break for it, rushing back towards Levi’s house despite the desperate yelling going on behind him.

                He hurries inside, locking the door behind him and shutting the curtains. _Great first impression, Eren, you really nailed it._

                Eren drags his feet as he walks around, looking for something different to do. Hunger gnaws at his stomach, coming back at him like a bullet with horrible thoughts. Levi’s going to be so dissatisfied, but Eren can’t help it. Eating hurts, not eating hurts, cutting hurts, not cutting hurts. Everything hurts. The only things that don’t hurt are Levi and his neighbor’s garden of hibiscus flowers.

                Eren goes upstairs, where he wanders into Levi’s room. This room, it feels more like home than his apartment with Jean ever has.

                Remembering Jean, Eren pulls out his phone at the speed of lightening. He perches himself on the end of Levi’s bed as he searches for Jean’s contact, clicking on his name and calling him. It strikes Eren as a bit odd, the fact that he has Jean’s number but not Levi’s. But perhaps Levi’s still stuck in the stone age of technology.

                The phone rings once. Twice.

                Eren’s about to give up.

                Three times.

                It’s not worth it. Jean’s just going to get mad at him.

                Four. Fi-

                “Hello?”

                Eren’s chest aches, his throat drying and his fingers growing numb with anxiety. He curls his toes, feet still dirty from stepping outside without shoes on.

                “Hey, Jean,” Eren says, weakly. He bites his lip.

                “Oh, hey, Eren,” Jean says, uncertainty evident in his voice. Someone – who sounds suspiciously like Marco – says something in the background, but Eren can’t for the life of him decipher what it is that he says. Jean growls at Marco, in response to whatever it was that he said.

                “Um,” Eren starts, unsure of where to go with this. He wants to apologize, he wants to make sure that Jean doesn’t feel any sort of guilt for letting Eren go through what he did. He might sound utterly stupid, but as long as he knows that there isn’t anybody feeling depressed like Eren’s been feeling, he might be able to get through the day. Though, Eren isn’t sure if he can handle any sort of confirmation that Jean has been feeling remorseful over this.  “I’m sorry.”

                “For?”

                Eren’s breath hitches. He can’t believe he’s apologizing to _Jean,_ of all people. “For being such an asshole to you. And for not telling you.”

                There’s silence on the other end for a moment, Jean hurriedly whispering something to whom Eren, again, assumes is Marco. He then says, “Not telling me what?”

                “That I haven’t been eating. And that I cut myself.”

                There’s a lot of muttering on the other end, and Eren hears what sounds like Marco letting out a frustrated groan. He’s the one who talks next.

                “You self-harm?” Marco nearly screeches, “Why didn’t you say anything? Oh, Eren, _I’m_ so sorry!”

                “Don’t be,” Eren murmurs. Nobody else needs to feel any sort of sadness, not like the kind that Eren’s gone through. No, scratch that – nobody else needs to feel any sort of sadness at _all._ No regret, no guilt.

                Jean grabs the phone back. Marco says something to him, to which Jean lets out a reluctant groan. But he complies with whatever Marco insists.

                “I’m sorry, too,” Jean mutters, “I never should’ve called you, uh, _fat,_ no matter how much I think you deserved it.”

                Eren blinks. Jean’s apologizing to him. Either Marco put him up to it, or Jean really _has_ been feeling repentant.

                “But anyways, fuckface,” Jean quickly changes the subject, “Where the hell are you?”

                Eren sighs, and starts to explain to Jean where Levi took him and, sparing Jean the more explicit details, what he’s done since he got here. Marco butts in, praising him for eating and begging Eren to keep eating, to do whatever it takes to become healthy again.

                Eren plays with the ends of Levi’s shirt, allowing Marco to give Eren his words of advice and hope for Eren’s future. Some of it sticks, some of it makes Eren think – like when Marco says that recovery takes baby steps, and that he can’t expect results overnight.

                It’s true. He _can’t_ expect to just wake up and be able to eat everything with no problem. Still, as he sits in Levi’s bedroom, there’s a sort of force compelling him to the bathroom to vomit up the breakfast he’d had, or to down a bottle of pills with weight loss as one of the listed side effects.

                Eren wants to cry, though there aren’t any tears welling up inside his eyelids. He feels hopeless, his face sags with hurt and undoubtedly he looks like hell. It’s frustrating, talking to someone about his eating disorder and self-harming. He’s ready to end the conversation, and he even considers hanging up the phone, when Jean says something to him.

                “Eren?” Jean utters. Marco hushes, letting Jean talk.

                “Yeah?”

                “Are we friends?”

                Eren pauses. He’s never _really_ thought of himself as Jean’s friend, but to say that he doesn’t care about him would be a lie. He cares. That’s why he called him. “Yeah.”

                Jean’s silent after that, and Marco takes the initiative again. “Are _we_ friends?”

                “Yeah,” Eren tries so hard to laugh, but all that leaves him is a slightly heavier gust of air. His chest feels compressed, heart weighing heavy inside of him. It seems that, no matter what they say to him, Eren still feels resentment towards himself. He might be able to call himself beautiful, he might be able to tell himself that he’ll still _be_ beautiful after eating a few meals, but he _can’t_ convince himself that he’s worth all of this trouble. He can’t truthfully believe in the words he tries to think about himself.

                “Does this mean you’re moving out?” Jean asks, voice still wavering, likely from having to admit that he was in the wrong about his actions.

                Eren considers this. Levi hadn’t said anything about Eren moving in with him. But Levi also acts as though Eren _already_ lives with him, promising to be back to greet him in the afternoon and waking him up to say goodbye in the morning. Would Levi want Eren to live with him? Eren wouldn’t hesitate to go pack his bags if the answer is yes.

                “Possibly,” he settles on.

                “Oh.”

                There’s an odd silence between the three of them, not even Marco trying to speak up. Eren’s legs start shaking, and his fingers tremble nervously as he waits for someone, _anyone,_ to say something. Eren would speak up, but his throat feels impossibly dry and his jaw aches from clenching it so hard. He starts sweating, nerves getting the best of him. Eren’s choking on his own silence.

                “After you left yesterday,” Jean says, and Eren mentally thanks him profusely for breaking the tense barrier of silence, “Armin and Mikasa had to go back to school. Armin acted pretty fucking mad, telling me off for making him miss a test, but I don’t think he was _really_ upset. And Mikasa, she’s mad because you didn’t tell her about your new husband.”

                “He’s not my husband,” Eren says sullenly – he wouldn’t mind too much, marrying Levi. But he pushes that thought aside as he makes a mental note to tell Mikasa about his new husban- ahem, new _boyfriend._

_“_ I’m so happy for you, Eren,” Marco says joyfully, “Make sure to eat a lot, yeah? You need it.”

                Eren agrees, though there’s a voice nagging him, saying that, yeah, he _does_ need to eat, but he _shouldn’t._ Eren’s going to fall into bad eating habits, most definitely, and what’s going to happen when he lets it get out of control? What’s going to happen when he _is_ overweight, all because he thought he could jump right into a vat of melting chocolate as a way to recover from his habit of not eating?

                It hurts. It hurts so much, to think that after all this time, Eren’s still insecure. He’s still unable to convince himself that things will be alright. Is he _always_ going to feel this way? He hopes not. But he knows he will be.

                Eren used to not give a shit what people thought of him. But after Jean’s constant comments about his appearance, Eren gives _too many_ shits about what people think of him now.

                His wrists sting, reminding him of what he can and _has_ done before. Eren could so easily go downstairs and stab himself. In fact, he doesn’t even _need_ to go downstairs. There are sharp objects, all around Levi’s room. The edges of tables, pencils, pens, even the fucking trashcan in the corner of the room could probably cut Eren.

                Eren holds back a sob. Marco and Jean are bantering about something pointless, and Eren tries to focus on their voices. He can’t.

                A sharp intake of breath escapes him, a mangled cry, and Marco and Jean fall dead silent on the other end of the phone. They wait, probably trying to decide what to do, and Eren’s head falls limp as he tries to suppress his emotions.

                “Eren? Are you okay?” Marco asks, worried.

                “Yeah,” Eren says, a little too quickly.

                “You _can_ talk to us,” Jean mutters.

                “I know.”

                “Eren, please-“ Marco starts, but Eren interrupts him by hanging up the phone.

                Eren stands, digging through Levi’s closet. He grabs a pair of black pants, and he pulls them on – unlike the boxers, these pants actually _do_ fall off of Eren’s waist, and he has to find a belt in order to keep them up.

                He buttons the shirt he’s wearing and finds a pair of Levi’s shoes to wear. It occurs to him now that Eren reluctant to put on his own clothing, choosing instead to wear an entire outfit of Levi’s clothing rather than his own. Levi’s clothing, it’s so comfortable – it’s big on Eren, though the pants are a little too short. They’re impossibly relaxing, and he smells an aroma of fresh cherries resonating from them.

                Eren rushes downstairs, ignoring the buzzing of his phone in his hand. He walks outside, and heads down a path towards where he knows Levi’s at. Or supposed to be at, assuming that the older man keeps his word – which, Eren has faith that Levi would.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “Levi! You’ll never guess who’s here to see you,” Hanji teases, blocking Levi’s view of someone standing behind her. Eren subtly pokes his head out over her shoulder, giving Levi an uneasy smile.

                “Who?” Levi plays along, and Hanji smiles from ear-to-ear. Normally, Levi wouldn’t care to partake in one of Hanji’s games, but just the fact that Eren’s here makes him have an odd urge to want to show off to the boy.

                “ _Guess,”_ she insists, holding her arms out to cover more of Eren’s body.

                “I don’t know. Petra,” he rolls his eyes.

                “Nope!”

                “Oluo.”

                “Too tall.”

                “Erwin.”

                “ _Way_ too tall.”

                “Eren?”

                “Ding, ding, ding!” Hanji imitates a ringing bell, “You got it!”

                She moves out from in front of Eren, who has a smile on his face despite the bags under his eyes. He looks melancholy, in the way his eyes quiver with concealed pain and the way his fingers tremble from where they lie, nervously messing with the buttons of Levi’s shirt.

                Eren has on a flower crown, which strikes Levi as odd. He doesn’t remember Eren having that when he took him home yesterday. Unless Eren went out and bought it, Levi hasn’t the slightest clue how he might have obtained it – Levi doesn’t own any flower crowns. He would rather stab himself in the neck than be seen wearing something like _that._

But on Eren, it’s cute. Fucking hell, is there _anything_ this boy does that isn’t cute?

                “What are you doing here, Eren?” Levi says, voice coming out colder than he intends for it to. Eren, thankfully, doesn’t seem fazed by it.

                “I felt lonely,” he says, outright. Levi’s impressed by his honesty.

                Hanji stands close by, a little _too_ close by, rubbing the same circle into the counter as she attempts to look like she’s cleaning instead of eavesdropping. Levi has an urge to rip her ponytail out and tell her to mind her own goddamn business, but he has more pressing matters at hand.

                “Do you want to talk about it?” Levi asks, stepping closer to Eren.

                “Yeah.”

                Levi wraps his fingers around Eren’s small wrists and pulls him aside to the kitchen. Erwin’s in there, though he’s too busy trying to open a pickle jar – making frustrated groans and even attempting to break the jar in half – to notice Eren and Levi sneaking into the corner of the room. Hanji doesn’t follow them in, which is a very good thing.

                “What’s wrong?” Levi murmurs, kissing Eren’s hand, still clutching Eren’s wrist.

                “I don’t know.”

                Levi’s heart drops when he sees that Eren’s _crying_ now, silent tears climbing down his tan face. Levi stands on his toes and kisses beside Eren’s eyes, tasting the saltiness of his hurt. Eren’s depressing energy runs through him, sending jolts of the same emotions through Levi, as though they are connected by some invisible force.

                “What happened?” Levi pushes, running a hand through Eren’s hair. A petal falls off of one of the flowers on Eren’s crown.

                “I want to hurt myself,” Eren sobs, fingers going up to wipe his cheeks.

                Levi’s face droops. He wants to kiss Eren so badly right now, to touch him and reassure him that he’s going to be fine, that he doesn’t have to resort to such extreme measures, no matter how bad the pain.    

                Erwin walks over, finally taking notice of Levi and Eren. “What’s going on?” he asks, voice faltering as he follows up with, “Oh.”’

                Erwin pushes Levi aside, now being the one standing in front of Eren. He then asks, “What’s wrong?” His voice betrays no emotion.

                “I, I want to hurt myself,” Eren repeats, face scrunching up as he sobs again.

                “Well, if you were to hurt yourself,” Erwin asks, “How would you do it?”

                “I- What?” Eren’s eyebrows furrow and he looks angry. “Why are you asking me _that_?”

                “Answer it,” Erwin says, standing tall and proud. Levi’s seen him do this before – it’s his protective stance, it’s the face he puts on when he wants direct information.

                “I, I don’t know, I think, I think maybe I would cut myself?” More tears fall from Eren’s eyes. He’s clearly nervous.

                “Details.”

                “I’d use one of Levi’s knives – sorry, Levi – from his kitchen, and I’d drag it down my arm.”

                “More. _Where_ would you cut yourself?”

                Eren pulls back the sleeve of the shirt he’s wearing, revealing old scars. “Right here,” he runs his finger down his forearm, right over the path of a vein.

                “That’s all?”

                “Um, here, too,” Eren shows another path of travel down his arm.

                “I see,” Erwin nods, blinking. “Anywhere else?”

                Eren traces a few more paths, a weak sob escaping his throat as he does so.

                “If you were to do it, when would you do it?” Erwin’s voice is calm as he interrogates Eren.

                “Um,” Eren hums, “I guess whenever I’m alone.”            

                “And if you’re not alone?”

                “Then I wouldn’t cut myself.”

                Erwin nods again. He then smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his eyebrows becoming one on his forehead. “So then all we have to do is make sure you’re not alone.”

                “How are you going to do that?” Eren asks, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

                “We’re going to keep you company,” Erwin says gently.

                Levi blinks. He’s impressed by how well Erwin’s handling this, surprising for a man who can hardly open a pickle jar despite having muscles on his muscles.

                “Oh,” Eren breathes. Levi can’t tell if he’s happy about this or not.

                Erwin nudges Eren towards the door, motioning for him to leave. Eren does just that, sending Levi one more heartwrenching look before closing the door behind him.

                Erwin looks down at Levi, raising his stupidly intelligent eyebrows. “So,” he says, “I take it that’s the Eren that Hanji’s so obsessed with?”

                Levi glares at him. “Yes.”

                “I didn’t think you went for taller people.”

                Levi turns towards him, murderous. “Shut the fuck up, Eyebrows,” he startles Erwin, “Are you really not going to address what just happened?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “I _mean_ ,” Levi narrows his eyes, “Eren has cuts all over his arms, and you just act like they’re nothing.”

                Erwin shrugs. “Sometimes it’s best not to make a big deal of things,” he says, “I personally believe that focusing too much on Eren’s self-inflicted injuries is just going to make him want to hurt himself more.”

                “Why?”

                “Because he’ll think there’s something wrong with himself. And that’s probably why he started in the first place.”

                “How do you know this?”

                “I’m observant. And, personally, I think you should take Eren to a therapist instead of trying to fix him yourself. I know you, Levi, and I know you probably don’t want to get other people involved in whatever it is that’s wrong with Eren, but some things _need_ other people to intervene.” With that, Erwin leaves out the door that Eren had exited through. Levi follows him, still confused over what Erwin said, and how he so naturally knew how to care for Eren. Erwin’s a smart guy, but Levi never thought that perhaps he was knowledgeable on more than just how to make a top tier soufflé.

                But what really bothers him is the fact that Erwin thinks Eren needs a therapist. Eren’s doing just fine. He ate, last night. Levi’s sure that he can coax Eren into eating again. Why would he need a therapist?

                It bothers Levi. It bothers him, because he _knows_ why Eren needs a therapist.

                Levi’s care isn’t enough. He can shower Eren with love for milleniums, but Eren’s recovery is so temporary. It’ll be mere days before he’s back into his old habits, before he’s trying to lure Levi into his way of thinking. The only way to get him to feel better, now, is to send him to a trained instructor as soon as possible. Preferably while he’s feeling sort of good about himself.

                Levi follows Erwin, and he’s met with the sight of Hanji trying to push Eren into drinking a concoction she’s made. It’s a disgusting shade of green, little leaves teeming at the top of the liquid. Eren’s trying to politely decline, but Hanji puts the drink closer to his face with each “no.”

                “Hanji,” Erwin says, “Please don’t assault Levi’s new toy.”

                “He’s not-“ Levi’s interrupted by Hanji letting out a frustrated groan.

                “But Erwin!” she cries, “He looked so _sad,_ I thought I’d offer him my latest and greatest creation, it’s supposed to soothe you! With a high alcohol concentration, it-“

                “But I’m not old enough,” Eren butts in. Hanji half-glares half-smirks at him.

                “Nobody’ll have to know! Besides, you’re in good hands,” she throws an arm around Eren. Eren looks to Levi for help.

                “As much as I’d like to see Eren drunk,” Levi says, eyes narrowed and showing no emotion, “I would rather not have this place shut down just yet.”

                “You guys are no fun,” Hanji sighs, giving up and seating herself next to Eren. Eren subtly scoots away from her.

                Levi slowly walks around the counter and puts his hands on Eren’s shoulders. He leans close to Eren’s ear and murmurs, “Are you feeling better yet, mon moitié?”

                Eren doesn’t make eye contact with Levi as he nods.

                Levi doesn’t believe him, not for one second.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “What exactly compelled you to make a flower crown?” Levi asks, rubbing circles against Eren’s back. Eren’s facing away from him, the two of them having had just gotten back from Levi’s restaurant, the hour being far past five. Eren’s eyes are closed, his lashes sending short but awe-inspiring shadows down his hollowed cheeks. He’s still wearing his flower crown, despite it withering as the minutes go by.

                Levi can feel himself growing increasingly frustrated with Eren. He knows he can’t expect immediate results, but he _wants_ immediate results – he wants Eren to eat, he wants him to never speak another word of suicide ever again, he wants the scars on Eren’s arms to blow away like dust in the wind.

                Levi wants Eren to feel good about himself. He wants to be able to wake up next to a healthy Eren, an Eren that’s capable of loving himself.

                Eren groans as Levi massages him, hitting the right spot on his upper back. He leans into his touch, throwing his head back at an angle that allows Levi to see the strain of his bones against his neck and collar.

                Those aren’t beautiful. The contours of Eren’s body, the tan of his skin, the natural curve of his lower back – _that’s_ beautiful. But the unwholesome way that his bones threaten to break free from his skin, the way that his stomach’s so thin that Levi’s actually worried that he might snap Eren in half with one wrong move – _that’s_ not beautiful.

                The disgusting cuts that run the length of his arm, those are horrible. They’re foul, and Levi would give anything to be able to heal those with the snap of his fingers.

                Eren opens his eyes, keeping them half-lidded as he rolls over and rests his head on Levi’s lap, snugging into his crotch. He lifts his head just long enough to say, “They remind me of you.”

                Levi hums. He _does_ recognize the flowers as hibiscus flowers, the flower that he’d put in Eren’s hair and the flower that he’d bought a bouquet of to apologize for speaking out of term to Eren. If anything, hibiscus flowers remind Levi of _Eren._ It’s far too convenient that they do the same for Eren.

                Eren rolls over again, the back of his head to Levi’s lap. The two of them are cuddling on Levi’s bed, and blankets are thrown awry as Eren messes them up with his constant moving.

                Eren reaches down and unbuttons his – _Levi’s –_ shirt, tossing the sides open to reveal his chest and his shoulders. Eren slides out of his – once again, _Levi’s –_ pants, obviously feeling very comfortable around Levi. Which, he should be – the two of them _did_ just have sex the night before.

                Eren jolts up, kissing Levi’s chin very quickly before resigning back to Levi’s lap. He kicks the pants off, onto the floor.

                Levi runs a hand through Eren’s hair. A strand falls off, tying itself around Levi’s fingers.

                Eren sits up, shifting so that he’s now s _itting_ on Levi’s lap, legs on either side of Levi’s waist, chest to chest. He settles himself right above Levi’s half-hardened clothed cock. He wraps his arms around Levi, pressing their lips together and biting on Levi’s upper lip. He moans into Levi’s mouth, carding his fingers around in Levi’s dark hair.

                Levi moves his hands, one going around to massage Eren’s rear and the other one going to feel around the curve of Eren’s lower back as it transitions into his upper back. Eren moves with Levi, hips moving back and forth sensually across Levi’s lap, creating friction. Eren gasps when Levi slips a finger under the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down in one swift action.

                Eren’s eyes close, breath hitching as he tries to calm himself. Levi caresses Eren’s body, gently running his digits over every single inch of Eren’s beautiful appearance.

                “Levi,” Eren purrs, “I love you.”

                “I love you, too.”

                Eren smiles at that, and he removes himself from Levi’s lap. Levi would say that he’s disappointed about this, but what Eren does next completely changes his mind.

                Eren unbuttons Levi’s pants, moving and positioning himself between Levi’s legs. His fingers fumble with the zipper of Levi’s trousers, shaky muscles limiting his actions.

                “Don’t be nervous,” Levi murmurs, helping Eren out by taking off his belt. He loves seeing Eren happy, which, he is – though he’s very clearly uneasy, he’s also _happy,_ because Levi knows that if Eren wasn’t happy, he wouldn’t have his face an inch from Levi’s crotch.

                “I’m not nervous,” Eren lies, voice determined but wavering. His ears turn a light pink hue.

                Eren slides his hand into Levi’s now-unzipped pants, wrapping his fingers around Levi’s cock and pulling it out. He’s fully erect now, perhaps one of the quickest boners he’s ever gotten – Eren has an odd effect on him.

                Eren leans down, staring up at Levi as he nears his dick. His eyes are an everchanging forest of green, turning from their usual seafoam color to a darker, lustful hue, resembling the rich pine needles of evergreen trees.

                Eren props himself up on his elbows. He wraps his plump, raw red lips around the tip of Levi’s length, swiping his tongue over it to coat it with his spit and drink up the pre-cum.

                Levi grunts, roughly pushing more of himself inside of Eren’s mouth, eager for more action. Eren moans, trying to stretch his jaw open wide enough to take in as much of Levi as possible.

                Eren doesn’t break eye contact, though his face contorts and tears build in his eyes as Levi’s erection hits the back of his throat, nearly choking him. Eren gags, but he doesn’t let go of Levi’s dick.

                Levi feels a twinge of regret, a mixture of self-loathing for not making Eren eat more – knowing that he does, in fact, have a lot of control over Eren’s actions – and depression, for being the reason a tear slips out of Eren’s eyelid and down his cheek. Though it’s a result of sexual arousal, Levi doesn’t like seeing Eren cry.

                “Are you okay?” Levi asks, pulling some of himself from Eren’s lips.

                Eren nods vigorously. Levi doesn’t quite believe him.

                He tries to go easier on him, letting Eren do as he wishes without Levi’s insistent thrusting. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, as his head bobs on Levi’s cock, building a slow and steady pattern of taking in as much as possible and then releasing it all but the tip.

                Eren groans around Levi’s length, and it’s hard to tell if he’s actually really enjoying himself or not. His tongue flicks out and savors the base of Levi’s cock, moving slowly and carefully around Levi, tongue brushing the fuzz of Levi’s pubic hair.

                Levi grips to top of Eren’s head, fingers ruffling his hair. He nudges Eren closer, loving the feeling of _Eren_ on his dick, of _Eren_ on his skin, of _Eren_ giving his all to Levi.

                Eren releases Levi’s cock, holding only onto the tip with his lips. He then comes back at full force, tongue roaming up and down and around Levi. Levi hits the back of Eren’s throat once more, a knot increasing in his lower abdomen as he tries to hold back his orgasm for just a few more moments.

                Eren moans, a deep, erotic moan that sends shivers down Levi’s spine. He wonders how he got so lucky, to be able to net such an attractive sweetheart like this one. All he ever really wanted was to get Eren in bed, but now the thought of _keeping_ Eren in bed is all that will keep Levi sane. To lose Eren now would be to stab himself straight in the heart.

                Levi notices Eren fidgeting, a hand crawling down his pants as he tries to get himself off. Levi pulls Eren’s head back, off of his cock, and he pushes his lover down onto the mattress as he positions himself above him.

                Eren doesn’t hold back – he shrugs the shirt that he’s wearing down so that his shoulders are revealed, the tails of the shirt thrown to the sides, showing off his bony chest and hips. His makeshift flower crown is crooked on his head, and his hair sticks to his skin, drenched with sweat.

                Levi’s length throbs painfully against his stomach, and he doesn’t bother undressing himself before getting to work with Eren.

                He leans over and grabs the lube from the night before, coating his fingers with the last bits of it. He roughly spreads Eren’s legs, and Eren willingly complies, throwing his arms back behind his body and whimpering as the first of Levi’s digits enter him.

                Eren rolls his hips up, enveloping Levi’s entire finger, from his nail to his knuckle. He grunts; Eren feels so nice under him. Levi quickly shoves another finger inside, the sensual moans of Eren’s pleasure causing his toes to curl and sweat bead down Levi’s undercut.

                Eren’s cheeks flush an encouraging shade of red, and he tries so hard to convey his feelings to Levi, though Levi manages to find his prostate in the process and finger it energetically.  

                “Ah, _fuck,_ Levi,” Eren gasps, “I, I, uhn,” Levi starts to scissor his fingers inside of Eren. Levi moves his digits back and forth, in and out, assaulting Eren’s body over and over again.

                Levi moves his free hand up to Eren’s face, and Eren takes it and presses it close to his mouth, kissing the fingers in time with his whimpers. Levi pushes a digit into Eren’s mouth, mimicking his movements downstairs with the new entrance. Eren’s gasps become muffled as more fingers go inside his mouth, and they all the same become that much more audible and stimulating.

                Saliva trickles down Eren’s chin and it coats Levi’s fingers. Eren’s dick presses tightly to his stomach, and Levi wishes he had more hands so that he could pleasure Eren in every single way possible.

                Levi pulls his fingers out of Eren, who lets out heavy pants as he waits for Levi’s next course of action. Levi’s fast, he’s fast to put on a condom, and he’s fast to put himself back on top of Eren, thrusting his cock into Eren’s waiting hole. Eren’s legs tremble as Levi’s length fills him up, his body squirming as he adjusts to the pressure.

                “Hold still,” Levi commands, but he can’t honestly say that he doesn’t enjoy watching the way that Eren dances beneath him.

                “Uhn,” Eren elicits a moan in response, and Levi takes that as his signal to keep going. He pulls out completely, then rams himself back inside Eren.

                Levi moves one arm up and curls his fingers around Eren’s cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts. Eren’s hands clamp onto Levi’s head, pulling at his hair and digging his nails into Levi’s skin. His thighs vibrate around Levi’s waist, trying so hard to maintain their stance as Levi maims Eren with his dick.

                Levi had tried to be gentle with Eren the night before, uncertain of how much Eren could take and how he’d react to having body parts stuck inside of him. But Levi knows now, from how Eren’s encouraging him on, Eren’s becoming a fan of having it given to him roughly. Which, Levi can deliver just that.

                “ _Fuck,”_ Eren groans, “Oh, fuck, _Levi-_ “

                Levi runs his fingers over the tip of Eren’s erection, caressing him as Eren cums over their stomachs and Levi’s hand. Levi follows him, the lovely scrunch of Eren’s nose as he orgasms sending him over the edge.

                Levi removes his length from inside of Eren, grunting as Eren lets him go. He moves back to remove the condom, but Eren pulls him back down, wrapping his arms tightly around Levi’s neck and assaulting his lips. Their tongues wrestle, neither one really looking for dominance, but rather, to taste as much of each other as possible.

                It’s Eren who collapses first, falling lax onto the mattress, muscles limp and likely sore. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the spit from his chin, and Levi gets up to find a towel. He grabs one from the bathroom, and he returns, settling himself upright next to Eren. Eren inches closer to him, snuggling his face against Levi as Levi tries to clean all of the fluids off of Eren’s body. He scrubs him until he’s clear of everything that can be removed via a dry towel, though the shirt he’s wearing is going to need a couple of washes. Levi shrugs the shirt off of Eren, and he chucks the dirty laundry into a bin by the bathroom door. He pulls his own shirt off over his head and adds it to the clothing pile.

                He has an urge to start washing the clothing and, even more so, to take a shower and wash all of the sweat off of himself, but he’s not so sure that Eren would be up for that. At all.

                Levi slumps down next to Eren once more, who leans over immediately and presses a kiss to Levi’s chest. Levi runs a hand over his lover’s cheeks, carefully moving Eren’s flower crown back into its proper spot. There’s a tear in one of the stems, but it’s not enough to make the crown fall apart. The flowers, however, are already wilting due to a lack of water and sunlight and, really, general care.

                Levi allows Eren to calm down, taking the time to even out his own breathing as well. He syncs his breaths with Eren’s, the only sound filling the air for a few comfortable moments.

                “Did you eat today?” Levi asks suddenly, wrapping his hand around Eren’s palm and giving it a squeeze.

                Eren’s exhausted face falls, making Levi want to retract what he’d said. Perhaps now is not the time for that. He pulls Eren’s hand up to his face and pecks a kiss on the very top of his wrist.

                “I did,” Eren says, “But only breakfast.” He says the last part so low, Levi’s not too sure that he hears him correctly.

                “It’s fine,” Levi reassures, pressing kisses down Eren’s fingers, “It’s fine.”

                “You’re not upset?”

                “I am,” Levi murmurs, “But I know you’ll do better tomorrow.”

                Eren doesn’t respond to that. He instead shifts, throwing his body limply over Levi’s – his head’s pressed to Levi’s chest, arms around Levi’s waist. Levi sits up, running fingers through Eren’s soft hair and curling his arm around Eren’s upper back.

                Eren snuggles into Levi’s grasp, sighing a beautiful noise that makes Levi’s heart do a somersault. Eren inhales deeply, and Levi’s tempted to do the same, to breathe in the luscious, addicting smell of his lover’s natural scent. Eren tends to smell a bit like ocean breeze, but today there’s a hint of hibiscus flower that does wonders for the boy.

                Levi lets go of Eren just long enough to grab a blanket and wrap it around the two bodies, only their heads and the toes of Eren’s feet showing outside of the cover. Eren curls up under it, bringing himself closer to Levi. Levi subtly tries to inch himself even _closer,_ pressing his cheek to Eren’s head. It’s uncomfortable, holding his head at such an angle, but it’s worth it if it means that he can be as close as possible to Eren.

                “I’m sorry,” Eren says against Levi’s chest, his eyes shut.

                “For what?”

                “For not eating a lot today. And for bothering you at work.”       

                “You weren’t bothering me,” Levi hums, “You can’t honestly still think that I don’t like you, Eren.”

                Eren doesn’t say anything after that, and it worries Levi. It worries him, that Eren’s still insecure. That he still wants to hurt himself. That there’s still something eating at his happiness, leaving him devoid of cheer.

                “Eren,” Levi murmurs, running his fingers over the boy’s skin.

                “Yeah?”

                “Why did you stop eating?”

                Eren shifts so that he’s looking up at Levi. Levi moves his head back to get a clearer shot of Eren’s gorgeous green eyes, illuminating the dim room with their grace.

                “It’s complicated.”

                “I’m willing to listen.”

                Levi feels a pang in his chest – Eren’s already on the verge of tears, and yet, he hasn’t uttered a single word of his suffering to Levi yet.

                “I don’t know where to begin.”

                “Start from the first time you thought you weren’t beautiful.”

                Eren thinks this over, biting at his bottom lip. He blinks back the tears in his eyes, though his blinking is counterproductive, because his lashes will the water from his eyes rather than back in. Levi wipes his cheeks for him.

                “I, I guess it started, maybe, a few months ago? I don’t know the exact time, sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize.”

                Eren stares directly into Levi’s eyes, a silent communication of how much he trusts the man beside him. And for that, Levi’s grateful. He wants Eren to trust him. He wants Eren to be willing to give up even his darkest secrets, because Levi would never judge him. Levi can only love him.

                “I think, I think I was coming back from a birthday party with Jean, and he said something about how much I’d eaten there. I didn’t think I ate that much, but, but he called me- he said I was _disgusting,_ for eating all of that. I mean, all I had was a few pieces of cake, I think, but he- he acted like I fucking robbed a bank or something.”

                “I’m going to kill him.”

                Eren tries to laugh, but it comes out as a corrupted sob instead. Levi pulls Eren closer to him, squeezing his shoulders tightly.

                “You don’t have to do that. We, Jean and I, we’re friends now, yeah? He apologized to me.”

                “You’re really going to let him get away with this?”

                Eren looks at Levi with a sort of bewilderment. Why does Eren defend that prick? Eren’s beautiful. Levi’s never doubted that. He should never have felt himself any less than worthy of a status like that of a heavenly figure.

                “He’s different now, I think.”

                “He called you a walrus just mere days ago.”

                Another wave of tears rolls through Eren, making him shake violently under Levi’s grip. Levi pulls back the hair on his forehead and presses a kiss to Eren’s skin.

                “Keep going, with your story,” Levi murmurs, wanting to get as much out of Eren as he can before Eren becomes so broken that he can’t continue with his speech.

                Eren takes a moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath in and then back out.

                “Jean, he never really said anything like that in front of anybody else, but he always said it to me when we were alone. I think, after he said that to me, I found myself looking in mirrors more often, and hating myself more often. I stopped wearing things that _I_ like, and went for things that just hid what I looked like.”

                “Mhm.”

                Levi’s never truly liked Jean, but now his resentment’s grown so much that he’s not sure that he can be held back from killing the bastard, if he ever runs into him again. And he’ll be damned if he let’s _Eren_ around him, ever again.

                “I remember when I first cut myself,” Eren says, “I used a rubber band at first, because I wanted _something_ to hurt me, but then I realized that I wasn’t satisfied with the marks left by just that. So I tried to make it look like an accident, by hitting myself against the wall. All that happened from that was that a few neighbors were angry with the noise.”

                “Ah.”

                Levi’s going to rip the heads off of every single soul who’s ever looked at Eren and thought he was perfectly fine.

                “Then, I thought, fuck it. I’ll just cut myself with a knife, and hide it behind my sleeves, yeah?”

                “Oh.”

                Levi’s going to rip their hearts out next, and frame their dead bodies in a museum to show off to the world what happens to the heartless cunts that mess with his Paper Thin Beauty.

                “I didn’t actually stop eating until about a month after I started cutting.”

                “Why did you stop eating?”

                Eren’s not crying anymore, though his cheeks are a deep blush and his fingers tremble with anticipation. Anticipation of how Levi might react, and Levi knows for a fact that he won’t hesitate to slay every goddamn person Eren’s ever come in contact with, if push comes to shove.

                “Jean didn’t stop calling me names, it kind of got to me.”

                Jean comes first. Jean dies first.

                “Eren,” Levi purrs, “You’re _beautiful._ Don’t ever let some horse fucker tell you otherwise.”

                “I hate my body,” Eren groans, pushing his face into Levi’s chest.

                “You’re beautiful.”

                “I’m not, though,” Eren insists, “I mean, I tried to tell myself I was, yesterday, but it’s hard. I’m _ashamed_ of my body, Levi.”

                “Why?”

                “Because,” Eren drawls, “I’ve been starving myself, and now I can hardly stand up without collapsing. And before that, I used to eat so much that my own roommate, who’s oblivious as hell, actually took _notice_.”

                “I’ll kill him,” Levi says, again. “I don’t want you near him, ever again.”

                “Levi,” Eren says, irritated. “It’s not all his fault.”

                “Oh?”

                “Both of my parents are dead,” Eren admits, “And my mother was the only one who’s ever called me beautiful. Before you.”

                Levi feels a slight surge of joy, and he’s disappointed in himself for that. He’s proud to be the one who’s reassured Eren of his loveliness, but he hates the fact that he’s so proud of something that shouldn’t even exist – Eren should never have once doubted how attractive he is.

                “I’m here, now,” Levi murmurs, pressing another kiss to Eren’s face. “I’ll call you beautiful every day, in a million different languages, if you want. Eren, I don’t even care about your body anymore. At first, sure, but now I think I like you for deeper reasons.”

                Eren doesn’t respond to that, though he closes his eyes with a happy smile stretching his features. He cuddles against Levi, Levi returning the favor. It’s mere minutes before Levi’s ears are assaulted with the soft snores of Eren below him. Levi’s never had a particularly easy time falling asleep in his life, but tonight, sleep comes at him like an old friend. It’s not until his eyes are drooping that he remembers what Erwin said, about taking Eren to a therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to wrap things up, so expect maybe three or four more chapters after this one. Who knows, though, maybe I'll end up writing fifty more chapters. *shrug*


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are what you love, not who loves you.

                Levi sighs, rubbing his temple. Eren’s stubborn, but Levi thought he’d made it very clear that his heart was in the right place when he told Eren to stay away from Jean.

                But, no. That’s not the case. Because, if it were, Levi would be here in bed with his arms wrapped around a beautiful fox with stunning green eyes rather than a crumpled note with half-assed writing on it.

                _Im going to go get breakfast I’ll be back soon ok Levy? : ) –Eren_

Levi’s not sure if Eren’s teasing him by misspelling his name, or if he genuinely thinks it’s spelled like that, but Levi’s just a tad more concerned about the heart circling his name to care about Eren’s ability to spell.

                Levi’s also much more bothered by the fact that Eren is _lying_ to him. He knows this, because he’d overheard Eren on the phone late at night with Jean, talking about meeting up. Eren said something about wanting to “establish themselves as actual friends,” which Levi thinks is bullshit. Eren shouldn’t be friends with that prick. He shouldn’t want to go around him ever again.

                It rubs Levi the wrong way, that Eren still wants to be near someone so toxic. Because if Jean was willing to reduce Eren to what he is today one time, then Levi has no doubt that he’s capable of doing it again. Levi doesn’t want Eren to care about what anybody thinks. He doesn’t want him to be close enough to anybody that can potentially hurt him, which is to say, Levi doesn’t want Eren to be around anybody but him. Which is selfish, but better than having to constantly worry about if Eren’s depressed, if he’s upset, if he’s being made fun of,  if he’s hurting himself, if he’s even so much as _thinking_ about hurting himself.

                In fact, Levi’s willing to move on with his life _without_ Eren, if it means that it somehow benefits the boy. Eren deserves to be happy. And Levi’s dying to make Eren happy, no matter what it takes.

                Levi stands up, moving over to start changing his clothing for the day. He feels an odd sort of weak – he can’t help Eren right now, he can’t swoop in and save him if he needs it, because he doesn’t have the slightest clue where he could be. Eren hadn’t discussed it on the phone, which likely means that he’d be visiting his shitty apartment first, but then what? Where would they go after that?

                Levi wants to find out. He _needs_ to find out, as clingy as it sounds. His baby’s in the process of going out somewhere with a dickbag that contributed to his emotional downfall.

                Levi curses himself for falling asleep when Eren curled up next to him last night after he talked to Jean on the phone. If he’d said something then, he might’ve prevented Eren from leaving.

                Levi hates the thought that comes to mind next. He struggles, trying to think of something, _anything_ else he can do, but nothing else comes to him. There’s only one solution, only one way, only one _person_ who could successfully hunt out Eren’s whereabouts for Levi and not think twice about it. She’s probably already somehow implanted a tracking device in Eren’s arm and is watching him right now.

                Levi needs to enlist the help of Hanji, the only person capable of solving a crime like this, although she’ll likely go about it in the worst way possible.

                Levi shouldn’t be this concerned – after all, Eren’s nineteen. He’s capable of thinking for himself. But this is the same boy who let a dumbass like Jean convince him that he’s _fat,_ that he’s _ugly,_ that he’s _worthless._

Levi finishes dressing, wearing perhaps the blandest outfit to have ever been sewn – but he really doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He’s too preoccupied with trying to think of a way to convey his concerns to Hanji without her making a big deal out of him _actually_ showing care for another human being.

                Levi sets off towards his workplace, in high hopes that Hanji will be there – and she will be, because she’s never late. For anything.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Jean sits across from Eren, awkwardly tapping his fingers against the small table in front of him, averting his eyes so that he’s looking everywhere except at Eren. He doesn’t want to be here, but at the same time, he _absolutely_ wants to be here.

                He feels guilty, for allowing Eren to go through a nightmare. Guilty, for not trying harder to help Eren, once Marco discovered that Eren has a self-esteem issue that’s been killing him. Guilty, because Eren sits in front of him right now, flashing a bright grin that can’t _possibly_ be genuine, hand propping up his chin as he sits in a short-sleeved shirt, the first time Jean’s seen his arms in months.

                Eren’s arms are _hideous._ They have disgusting red lines down them, some darker than others, and they look like they could just start bleeding at any moment. Jean’s surprised that they _aren’t_ bleeding, they’re so wide. They run down the entire length of Eren’s forearms, very little space separating each cut and making them distinguishable.

                Jean’s glad that Eren feels confident enough to flaunt his arms again, despite how _gross_ they look, but he’s simultaneously judging Eren for doing so. He doesn’t particularly want to be seen with someone with self-harm scars, he doesn’t want to have so many people staring at Eren, wanting to ask questions but keeping silent. Partially out of selfish reason – Jean likes the spotlight on _him,_ not Eren – but also partially out of unease. What if Eren notices people staring at him? That won’t bode well.

                Eren moves his arms so that they’re under the table. His shoulders hunch, eyes dark underneath and cheeks hollower than ever. How could Jean have ever thought that Eren was okay? Sure, he was never really around to see him that often. But it’s so _obvious,_ in the way he gets so nervous, so defensive, so irritable about little things.

                Jean sighs, rather loudly. He wants to break the silence, to reassure Eren that they’re definitely on good terms now. That he’ll never call Eren something so heartless again, like _a walrus._

                It’s bitter on Jean’s tongue, the thought that, even after he had confirmation of Eren’s problem, he still couldn’t hold himself back from calling Eren that. When did he become so pretentious, and why do Eren and Marco allow it? Eren might express his anger towards Jean, but he’s never once told him that what he’s doing is wrong. And Marco, Marco acts like Jean is a godsend. Which, Jean is _far_ from being.

                Eren accidentally hits Jean’s leg under the table with his foot. They meet each other’s gaze, and Eren breaks it unnaturally quickly, coughing in his arm and turning his head sharply to the side where he can get a better view of the moldy wall beside them.

                The silence is suffocating. Jean would give anything to be over with this right now, to have the silence end.

                Jean opens his mouth to speak, but goddamn if his throat doesn’t constrict itself immediately. It’s as if some external force is begging them not to speak to each other.

                They’re at an old, dingy, rundown ice cream parlor on the other side of town, far from where they live. The walk here was even more awkward than their current situation, if that’s even possible. Brushing up against each other, stealing uncomfortable glances, Jean had half a mind to just run away.

                Eren busies himself with tracing the pattern of the wall with his eyes as they wait for their ice cream. Eren kept it simple – plain vanilla ice cream. Which is to be expected, Jean’s gotten used to Eren eating bland foods, added onto the fact that he apparently has an eating disorder and self-harm issues as well. Jean’s surprised Eren ordered anything at all.

                Jean, on the other hand, went all out. He ordered a milkshake with ten pumps of chocolate syrup in it, and a variety of sugar coma-inducing toppings. Of course, he also made sure to order the largest size possible. He was, sort of, _maybe_ hoping that, by order something extravagant, he’d be able to convince Eren to do the same and show Eren just what he’s been missing by not eating. This was not the case, as Eren _still_ went for the lowest calorie item available.

                Their waitress – a blonde girl with perhaps the most beautiful face Jean’s ever seen – comes up to them then, with their ice creams in hand. She places them down, looking first to Eren, then to Jean, then back to Eren with disbelief on her stunning features.

                “You,” she gasps, “I recognize you! I stopped you, on the street once, remember? It wasn’t too long ago.”

                Eren looks at her, trying to process what she just said. His face slacks, and he looks _upset,_ though Jean doesn’t know why. He doesn’t even know what she means, when she says she stopped Eren on the street. Eren never mentioned any of this to him, but Eren’s never exactly been open with Jean about anything.

                “I’m sorry?” Eren asks, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head.

                “My name’s Krista,” she says, “I asked you if you were okay, because you looked like-“

                “No,” Eren interrupts her, “I, I think you have the wrong person.”

                “Really? Maybe. I’m sorry,” she says, “You look just like him, though.”

                Eren grabs his ice cream and picks up a spoon, averting his eyes from the girl and focusing all of his attention on his dessert. Jean shrugs it off – Eren’s always been a bit peculiar.

                The girl, Krista, takes the hint and leaves. Eren clears his throat again, moving his spoon back and forth in his ice cream but never actually taking a bite from it. Jean tries to give him some encouragement and dives right into his food, though it’s not until he’s devoured half of it in under a minute that he realizes Eren’s not actually paying any attention to him – Eren’s too busy watching the other people, the group of teenage girls who surround the front counters, picking out their ice cream, the college kids who challenge each other to eat fifty pounds worth of dessert.

                Eren blinks, eyes fluttering from one person to the next. Jean didn’t think it possible, but Eren’s frown increases tenfold.

                Jean’s the one who finally grows a pair and speaks. “Eren,” he says, “Uh. How are you?”

                It’s lame, but he needs a way to get the conversation rolling.

                “I’m fine,” Eren replies simply. He looks at Jean expectantly, as if he expects _Jean_ to be the one who carries this conversation when he hardly could bring himself to even start it.

                Jean thinks over his words carefully – one wrong speech could send Eren to his grave. And he hates that. He hates that he has to tiptoe around this sensitive bastard. But he’s going to do it, anyways, because there maybe, could be, sort of is a part of him that _cares_ about Eren. Just a little.

                “How’s your, uh, boyfriend?”

                “He’s fine.”

                Jean really wants to punch Eren in the jaw right now. Why won’t Eren at least _try_ to help Jean out here? All he has to do is say a few more words, and they could be total bullshit, but at least it’d make it easier to keep the silence alleviated. On the phone, Eren wasn’t so reluctant to speak. Why is he nervous now, then?

                “I, uh. How’s your ice cream?” Jean tries. He hasn’t actually seen Eren eat any of it, and it’s melting quickly – it threatens to spill over the top, a pile of white mush.

                “It’s fine.”

                Jesus fucking Lord of Throbbing Scrotums. Why won’t Eren just fucking talk to him? He has to be doing this on purpose. Jean tries to keep his cool, but hell if he isn’t one second away from flipping the table over and going to war with Eren.

                “Armin told me to ask you how the job search is going.”

                “It’s fine.”

                Holy dick blender, it’s getting harder and harder to stay sane. Jean furrows his eyebrows at Eren, who reflects the look back at him.

                “Eren?”

                “Yeah?”

                “I meant what I said. I want to be your friend, now.”

                “I want to be your friend, too,” Eren smiles. It looks so fake – his eyes don’t light up, the corners of his lips just barely upturn. His face is a cold, pallid color, and his fingers seem to grip his ice cream with much more force than necessary.

                “Then what’s wrong?”

                “Nothing’s wrong.” Eren’s ears are painted a light pink hue, a contrast to the rest of his graying skin.

                “We’re friends, Eren.”

                “We are.”

                “So then don’t fucking lie to me,” Jean accuses.

                “I’m not lying,” Eren defends.

                “Yes, you are,” Jean insists.

                “No, I’m not.”

                “Yes, you _are.”_

                “No, I’m _not.”_

“Do you wanna fucking fight, you fucking fat cockhole?”

                “Yeah, I wanna fight,” Eren pushes aside his ice cream, a new flare in his eyes.

                Jean shoves aside the remains of his ice cream as well and moves out from behind the table. Eren follows, raising his fists as if he actually expects to have a chance against Jean.

                And that’s when it hits Jean. The realization.

                Eren doesn’t want to fight.

                Eren wants an excuse to not have to eat. He wants an excuse that will last, an excuse to use two days later, an “I’m not hungry, my stomach still hurts from when my roommate slammed his knee into me,” an “I’m still sore from fighting Jean.”

                Eren’s tricky. Eren’s _smart._ He’s managed to figure out just how to avoid eating at all costs. And Jean is just another player in his game – perhaps Eren _does_ want to be his friend, but in the end, he’s still using him as a way to get out of eating. To get out of gaining weight.

                Jean retracts, slumping down in his seat again. Eren looks down at him, confused. He lets out a yelp when Jean rather roughly grabs his wrist and pulls him back down to have a seat as well.

                “I thought you said you were fine.”

                “I am,” Eren says, eyebrows knit tightly together.

                “Then why aren’t you eating?”

                “I am,” Eren states.

                “No, you’re not.”

                “Yes, I am.”

                “Don’t start that again,” Jean growls, “I thought you told Marco and I that you were going to eat again.”

                “I _am_ eating again.”

                “What have you eaten so far today?”

                “That’s not important.”

                Jean throws his head back and groans, irritated. “Yes, it _is,_ Eren. I don’t want you to _die._ I’ve _never_ wanted you to die. I might’ve told you that I do, but I _don’t,_ Eren, and you _are_ going to die if you don’t shove something down your goddamn windpipe right now.”

                Eren’s shoulders fall, his eyebrows separating from each other. He blinks, eyes growing wider at Jean.

                Jean continues on with his rambling. “Have you _seen_ yourself, Eren? You’re not fat. I know I say you are, all the time, but I don’t fucking _mean_ it. You look like one of those goddamn kids from Africa that you see on commericials all the time. _You have to eat_.”

                Eren blinks again, biting his lower lip. “I, I _do_ eat-“

                “Fuck you,” Jean grits his teeth, “Why won’t you just listen to what I have to fucking say?”

                “I am listening-“

                “No, you’re not. You’re too busy trying to find a way out of this. Eren, I’m not saying this because I’m against you. I’m saying this because I want to be able to talk to you without _worrying_ that you’re just going to turn around and kill yourself.”

                Eren’s crying. He’s fucking crying now. Jean’s been able to reduce Eren to near-tears before, but he’s never actually made him _cry_ like this, right in front of his face, in a public setting where anybody can turn their head and see what likely looks like Jean belitting an anorexic skeleton with cuts down his arms.

                And that’s exactly what Eren is. Broken beyond belief. It feels so different, to have to watch Eren cry because Jean’s supporting him rather than having to watch him cry because Jean’s an utter dick.

                “I’m sorry,” Eren sobs, voice cracking.

                “No, you’re not,” Jean accuses, “If you were, you’d _fucking eat.”_

                “I _am_ going to eat,” Eren’s voice changes to a higher pitch through his crying, “I just-“

                “Then do it.”

                “What?”

                “ _Eat.”_ Jean shoves Eren’s ice cream over to him, a splash of melted vanilla falling over the sides. The ice cream is mostly melted now, but luckily, the calories don’t melt with it.

                Eren doesn’t do anything. He sits there with a blank look on his face, his tears being the only thing in action on his face.

                Jean groans, picking up Eren’s goddamned ice cream and shoving a spoonful of it down Eren’s mouth. Eren’s face betrays bewilderment, and he’s definitely unsure of what to say – he doesn’t even swallow the ice cream for a moment, surprised by what Jean’s doing.

                “You’re not actually going to feed me,” Eren laughs nervously, “Are you?”

                “I am,” Jean says, “Because clearly this is the only damn way to get you to eat.”

                Another spoonful is thrust at Eren, Eren gagging when the spoon goes a little too far down his throat. “I get it,” Eren gasps, “I can feed myself, please.”

                “Do it, then,” Jean hands Eren his ice cream back. Eren glares at Jean, but he proceeds to down a big gulp of the half-melted ice cream.

                Jean gives himself a mental pat on the back. He’s gotten Eren to eat. It took a little force, but hey, the more calories that get inside Eren, the more likely he is to live a little longer.

                Eren begrudgingly eats, giving Jean a little too much of his attention and missing his mouth more than once. He then angrily wipes his face off, eyebrows tied together and mouth in a seemingly permanent downwards parabola.

                Eren might look at Jean with contempt in his eyes, but that doesn’t stop Jean from being proud of Eren. He’s impressed, because this proves, once and for all, that Eren _is_ getting better, however slowly. Eren’s wearing short sleeves, he’s sitting down and eating in front of other people. And it’s not his usual bland toast or three-days-from-the-expiration-date milk. It’s ice cream. It’s high in calories, high in sugar, it’s high in everything bad for the human body.

                And yet, Eren’s still eating it.

                And Jean’s pleased with this.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Hanji’s eyes brighten as Levi tells her of his need for her aid in finding Eren. She lets out a squeal, muffled by her palms, and pulls Levi’s arm, urging him to stand up.

                “Yes! A million times, yes, I’ll help you,” she says, pulling Levi into a bear hug. Levi pulls a face and squirms from her grip.

                “Thank you,” Levi mutters, looking around to make sure that Hanji hasn’t attracted the attention of every soul on the planet. Several people are looking at them with disgusted faces, but the majority remains unfazed.

                “Erwin?” Hanji calls, kicking open the door that he’s supposed to be behind – which, he is, and the door smacks him right on the nose. “Levi and I are leaving. Bye!”

                “Wait, wha-“

                Hanji grabs Levi’s arm and drags him away, leaving behind a confused Erwin to deal with their restaurant all by himself. Hanji pulls Levi away, whisking him down the street, running at full speed towards their destination.

                “Hanji,” Levi gasps, “Where the hell-“    

                “Eren’s room!” she responds gleefully, “There might be clues there.”

                “What? Why would we-”

                "We're going to search through his stuff!"

                Levi blinks. "He'll - ah - hate us if we do that, though."

                “He’ll get over it.”

                “How are we even going to get in?”

                Hanji sends him a mischievous grin as the two of them take a sharp turn onto a new street. Levi’s impressed that Hanji apparently knows which way to go to get to Eren’s room.

                “I’m experienced in picking locks!” Hanji cheers, nearly running into a little boy on the sidewalk, “How do you think I get into _your_ house?”

                Levi can’t exactly argue that. He wouldn’t be able to effectively, anyway, because he’s out of breath from running and Hanji’s showing no signs of slowing down any time soon.

                They stop in front of Eren’s room, and Hanji leans her head close to the doorknob and sets to work. She only merely glances at it, a flash of confusion over her face for a moment, before simply turning the knob and opening the door.

                “They don’t lock their door when they leave?” she mutters to herself, “That’s strange.”

                Levi shoves his way past Hanji, entering the room first. It’s deserted, thankfully – he doesn’t want to have to explain to anyone exactly why he’s intruding on another person’s property. This room is evidently Eren’s, though – Levi’s been here once before, and unless every room looks exactly the same, this is the place.

                “What are we going to do?” Levi asks simply, getting straight to business and wanting to get this over with. He could, technically, drag Hanji back out by her ears and scold her for even coming up with such a plan, but this is  _Hanji,_ and if she doesn't do this  _now_ then she'll just end up coming here  _later._ And, knowing her, she has no qualms about doing what she wants whenever she wants. 

                “Well,” Hanji starts, “First we’re going to look around and see if we can’t find any clues. Maybe a note, or DNA evidence-”

                “Fine,” Levi says. He moves over to the left side of the room and Hanji scuttles over to the right. She dives down and starts searching the floor, throwing clothing behind her as she digs.

                Levi’s a tad disappointed, because he’d unluckily chosen the side of the room that _doesn't_ belong to Eren. He'd really rather be going through Eren’s stuff rather than Horsefuck’s belongings, however stalker-ish that might seem. Hanji seems to be having fun, and every now and then she lets out a squeal and refuses to tell Levi why she’s so excited.

                Levi _does_ feel guilty for what he’s doing, though. He’s essentially invading Eren’s privacy just because he can’t stand the thought of leaving the guy to himself for more than two seconds. Hanji, however, doesn’t seem to care at all, what with the way she’s nearly jumping for joy from where she sits. Levi’s actually about to say something, about to get up and go ahead and drag Hanji back outside, when her attitude takes a sharp turn.

                Her laughter dies down, just minutes after going through Eren’s things. She stops tossing things behind her, preoccupied by whatever it is that she just found. Levi wouldn’t normally be concerned, but she was so _audible_ just a moment ago, and now it’s dead silent.

                “What’s wrong?” Levi calls, folding a piece of cloth. It’s not the right time be cleaning, but this place needs a hefty makeover.

                “Uh,” she says, “Nothing.”

                “Hanji?”

                “Nothing’s wrong.”

                “Hanji-“

                “Oh, Levi!” Hanji moans, “Why does our gorgeous little cinnamon roll have a knife under his bed?”

                “What?”

                Levi sets down the cloth he was holding and rushes over to Hanji’s side, where she holds up a blade. Its edges are sharp, and it’s a dull gray.

                “Where did you find that?” Levi asks, standing above Hanji.

                “Right here,” she points out the spot where she’d found it, situated underneath Eren’s mattress.

                “Is there anything else there?”

                “No,” she runs her arm under the mattress, “Wait. Yes.”

                She pulls out a notebook – it’s dingy, the corners of the cover folded over and bends in the papers inside. Hanji opens it, eyes running over its contents and mouth hanging agape as she reads what it says.

                “Levi?”

                “Yes?”

                “Is Eren okay?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “It- It looks like he’s, uh, if this is his notebook, I mean, does he have an eating disorder? It _looks_ like anorexia,” she mutters.

                “Yes.”

                Levi hates saying it out loud. Somehow, uttering the words make the reality of the situation so much worse, it makes it harder to swallow. Levi’s always referred to Eren’s situation in his mind as “not eating,” but to outright admit that he’s anorexic makes his heart sink to his stomach. Hanji looks up at him, amazed.

                “Why do you ask?” Levi says. What could she have possibly read to make her realize that Eren’s starving himself?

                Hanji hands Levi the notebook and picks back up Eren’s knife. She runs her fingers over it, inspecting it closely. She pricks her finger on the end, blood teeming at the surface of her skin immediately.

                Levi opens the cover. The first page says a date, slightly faded from wear – it’s set back several months ago, in winter. Below it is a list of foods and a number beside them – first on the list is “one apple, 100 calories.” Below it are a few similar items, all low in calories but somehow adding up to about 700 calories altogether.

                Levi flips through a few more pages. The lists get shorter and shorter, and some days don’t have anything recorded under them at all. 

                He skips to the back of the notebook and finds the most recent date. It’s just a few days ago, and under it is written the food that Levi remembers eating with Eren – fish.

                Levi feels sick. It’s so recent, it’s _too_ recent. Eren could’ve killed himself. Levi’s lucky he _didn’t_ kill himself.

                Eren doesn’t deserve to feel this way about himself. He’s not a bad person. He’s a fucking angel, why does _he_ have to be the one who obsesses over calories and drags a knife down his skin because he thinks he’s less than perfect? Why does _anyone_ think they deserve a fate like that?

                If Levi wanted to kill Horsefuck before, hell if he isn’t actually going to act on that impulse now. Eren tried so hard to convince Levi that Jean’s not entirely at fault here, but Levi knows better. Eren’s likely just trying to make it so that Levi doesn’t hate every fiber of Jean’s being, but Levi most certainly _does_ now.

                There’s blood on some of the pages, and every drop of it sends a fury of emotions through Levi, starting in his chest and flourishing in the tips of his fingers as he grows even more tempted to snatch Eren’s knife from Hanji and hunt out every soul who might’ve had a hand in hurting Eren like this.

                “Hanji, keep looking,” Levi tells her, tossing the notebook down into her lap. She looks up at him, confused as he walks back towards the other side of the room.

                Hanji’s not a bad detective. But they won’t get anywhere if all they do is stay focused on what Eren’s been doing to himself rather than what he might be _currently_ doing to himself. Levi hates himself, for rummaging through their belongings like it’s no big deal, but he _has_ to find Eren. Jean’s going to end up killing his Paper Thin Beauty, and Levi will be damned if he lets that happen.

                Levi reluctantly goes through Jean’s things. What they’re doing is completely wrong and immoral – how the fuck is Levi supposed to approach Eren about this? He can’t just say, “Hey, I was going through your stuff while you weren’t home, and I’m really concerned about you.” No, then Eren would think he’s crazy. Which, he might be.

                Levi finds a cell phone under a pillow on Jean’s bed. He slides his finger across the screen and attempts to unlock it, to no avail.

                “Hanji,” Levi calls, getting her attention. He chucks the phone at her head, knocking her glasses off.

                “Ouch! What was that for?” She puts her glasses back on.

                “Unlock it.”

                “Oh. Okay,” she drawls, picking up the phone. She tries a few different combinations on the number-pad that pops up, before sighing and trying a different method of hacking in.

                Levi slowly walks over and leaves Hanji to her work as he enters Eren’s bathroom. He closes the door behind himself, feeling claustrophobic with all of the _stuff_ littering the ground. There’s literally no room to place anything on the bathroom sink through all of the bottles and containers.

                Levi kicks a shirt out of his way, and it lands behind the toilet, knocking a pair of pants down from where it was perched over _something_.

                Levi pauses. He knows what that _something_ is, though he desperately hopes he’s wrong. If he’s right, then it’s no wonder Eren thinks he’s fat – he’s _surrounded_ by reminders of his weight, he’s encompassed by the constant knowledge of what he looks like. Eren doesn’t think that he’s beautiful, and to have him _always_ be so aware of his appearance can be detrimental.

                Levi leans down and picks up the scale off of the ground. It’s not very big, though the space that it _does_ have is littered with perhaps the worst sayings that Levi’s ever read.

                _You’re unappealing to the eyes without a gap between your thighs._ What the fuck?

                _Beautiful people don’t eat._ Who the hell _says_ that?

                Levi wants to say he’s horror-struck by this. But he’s not.

                Eren doesn’t surprise him anymore.

                In fact, he’d be more surprised to find out that Eren _doesn’t_ do this. And he _can_ tell that it’s Eren’s handwriting – if the note Eren left this morning is anything to go by, this is all his doing. The writing is slanted towards the right and all of the I’s are dotted with large circles.

                Levi’s disgusted. How can Eren just _do_ this to himself? Doesn’t he have _any_ sense of self-worth? Or has it all been depleted?

                “Levi?” Hanji calls, “I got it!”

                Levi glares down angrily at the scale in his hands. He carries it out of the bathroom and steps over Hanji, who tries to show off the fact that she got the phone unlocked, and Levi pops the window behind one of the beds open. He doesn’t hesitate to toss the scale out and close the window back into place.

                “Levi?”

                “Yes?”

                “What was that?”

                “Nothing important. Let’s try to call Eren.”

                                                                                                ~|~

                “Jean?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Stop fucking staring at me.”

                Jean blinks, and goes out of his way to stare at Eren even closer than before. He props his head up on his hands and raises his eyebrows, giving Eren the shittiest grin to ever come into existence. Fuck him.

                Eren eats his ice cream gradually, drop by drop. Jean doesn’t say anything about his sluggish eating, though Eren’s not sure that he’s even noticed.

                Jean has a point. He’s right, in saying that Eren needs to eat. Eren knows he needs to eat. But he still can’t bring himself to do it so easily, so quickly, without a second thought. He’s gone so many days without eating, it’s almost frightening, how his first thoughts when he sees food are, “I don’t have to eat this,” “I’ll be better off without this,” and “I’ll feel better if I don’t eat.”

                Do other people think this way? Eren didn’t used to. He didn’t use to doubt himself before taking a bite. He didn’t use to focus so much on calories, on gaining weight, on being attractive.

                Eren can tell that Jean’s trying to help him. But watching him eat isn’t going to help anything – in fact, all it does is make Eren feel even more insecure than usual. He feels sick to his stomach, his cheeks flushing pink and his eyes stinging from a mixture of anger flooding his mind and sadness threatening more tears.

                He’s trying not to hate himself. He’s trying to love himself. He’s trying to be able to look at his reflection and find the good things rather than the bad things. But there are _so many_ bad things about himself, things that are irreversible – the cuts on his arms, the bags under his eyes, the hair loss. How is he supposed to be able to look at himself and be _happy_ with what he sees?

                “Eren?”

                “Yeah?”

                “You’re alright, you know? You’re going to be fine,” Jean reassures.

                Eren instinctively tries to think of something cold and heartless to throw back at him, but he can’t, because Jean’s actually being nice to him. He’s showing Eren care, even though he’d nearly flipped his shit in the process.

                Eren nods. He lifts up his spoon and gulps down a big spoonful of ice cream – it’s sweet, _very_ sweet as it slides down his throat. Eren loves the taste, but the feeling as it settles in the pit of his stomach is disgusting. He has an urge to run to the bathroom and vomit the dessert back up, but he tries his best not to give in to his temptations.

                “Don’t listen to anything I say,” Jean continues, “It’s not worth it, throwing your life away because someone called you ugly. You’re not ugly.”

                Eren doesn’t say anything. He moves his eyes away from having to look at Jean, choosing instead to watch the front door and admire the people who walk in and walk out. There’s not a single person who doesn’t look happy.

                “Are you listening?” Jean says, sending a swift kick to Eren’s shin. He yelps, glaring at Jean as the pain shoots up his leg.

                Pain is becoming more and more unbearable with each passing day. He’s so _used_ to it, but somehow it still manages to astonish him with how badly it hurts. When he gets hit, it doesn’t just sting – it numbs him. When he crosses his legs, he’s only able to maintain that position for so long without his legs losing all feeling. When he bangs his hand against the wall by accident, the pain stays with him for longer than it should.

                Eren’s growing weaker and weaker with each day. And even though he’s trying to eat again, even though he’d downed a bowl of cereal just a day ago, he doesn’t feel any stronger. He feels more inclined to give up, because recovery is a long process, and Eren can’t wait that long. He wants results _now,_ he wants to be able to look at another person without them worrying if he’s okay or not.

                “Listen, asshole,” Jean growls, “I’m not saying this because I’m being forced to. I’m saying this because I don’t want you to die.”

                Eren sighs, pushing his ice cream away and slumping back in his seat. He can’t eat anymore.

                It’s one thing, to know in your head that you’re going to die if you don’t eat. It’s another thing, to have someone look you directly in the eyes and _tell_ you that they’re worried you’re going to fall to your death if you don’t take an extra bite of food.

                It should encourage Eren to eat more, hearing Jean tell him that he’s concerned. But it doesn’t. It makes him sick. It makes him hate himself, because he shouldn’t be so pathetic to warrant the worry of his friends.

                “ _Say something_ , dicknose.”

                “Something,” Eren teases, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Jean.

                “Oh my god,” Jean smirks, amused.

                Eren puts forth the effort, trying to keep a smile on his face despite the weight of his thoughts pinning him down. He hears shuffling beside him – a pair has just taken their seats at a table nearby. Jean watches Eren with something different in his eyes for once, an expression that tells Eren that, while Jean certainly doesn’t love Eren to bits, there isn’t contempt being shot at him. Eren pulls himself forward, scooting his chair closer to the table.

                “Come here, Eren,” Jean motions Eren over with his hand. Eren raises his eyebrows, but he complies, getting out of his chair and moving towards Jean’s side. He sits next to him, squeezing himself onto the small cushion of the chair, only half of his butt actually making contact with the seat. Jean scoots over, giving him just a tad more room.

                “What are we doing?” Eren asks, leaning away from Jean so that they’re not touching as much.

                “Taking a picture,” Jean explains, “Marco asked me to do this, so. Yeah.”

                Jean shoves his hands in his pockets, face going blank when he pulls his hands back out with nothing in them. He then searches the area around himself, looking for something.

                “What’s wrong?” Eren asks.

                “My phone,” Jean says, “It’s gone. I could’ve sworn I brought it with me-“

                “We can just use mine.”

                “Yeah? Yeah,” Jean nods, “Let’s do that, then.”

                                                                                                ~|~

                Hanji scoots herself as close to Levi as possible, their cheeks almost touching. It’s unnerving, because Levi can feel the hairs of her skin brush against his jaw, and her breathing sounds like a panting dog.

                “Levi,” she whispers, “That’s definitely him, just look! He’s even got the same slouch in his back.”

                “Mhm,” Levi murmurs. He doesn’t doubt that it’s Eren that he’s looking at. But why his Paper Thin Beauty is huddled close to Horsefuck, arm extended outwards with his phone in hand and using the other to make a peace sign, Levi has a few questions about.

                Eren and Jean’s foreheads are connected at the top – which makes Levi just a little angry, Eren shouldn’t be smiling like that. Jean’s wrapping an arm around Eren’s shoulders – which totally does _not_ make Levi want to decapitate him - and Eren’s not trying to maintain his distance, which most certainly does _not_ send waves a fury through Levi’s body.

                Hanji and Levi had managed to find out the location of Eren and Jean by prying through Jean’s text messages, where he’d sent someone listed as “bae;)” a notice that Jean was going to be here with Eren. And, to Hanji and Levi’s luck, Eren and Jean were still here when they arrived. Hanji suggested they wear disguises, and Levi adamantly denied. If he’s going to get caught in the disgusting act of, er, _stalking_ , for a lack of a better word, he’d rather go ahead and take it like a man.

                Eren clicks a button on his phone, a shutter sound effect filling the room as he takes a picture with Jean. They then proceed to switch positions, Eren resting his head against Jean’s neck and Jean moving his hand down to prop Eren up, fingers against the side of Eren’s chest under his arm.

                Levi picks up a napkin dispenser and throws it towards Jean’s head, in a fit of rage. He doesn’t use his full force, but instead merely tosses it in their direction. He ducks under the table, pulling Hanji down, when a terrified shriek sounds from the table. Levi looks up in time to see a petrified Jean trying to figure out what just happened and a pained Eren rubbing the side of his head, wincing. Levi, in his jealous – no, he’s not jealous – frenzy, managed to miss Jean and hit Eren instead. He feels guilty, but only because it means that Horsefuck isn’t in a hospital bed yet.

                Levi pulls himself back up into his seat, Hanji doing the same. Neither Jean nor Eren seem to have figured out that they’re here, though Levi swears he meets eyes with Eren at least once.

                Eren groans, furrowing his eyebrows and looking upset. He then leans up, having to push himself off of the ground a bit to be close to Jean’s ear, and he whispers something to him. Jean’s eyes flutter back and forth across the room, and he nods solemnly at whatever it is that Eren told him.

                Levi grips the edge of the table, furious. He wants Eren to whisper words into _his_ ear, he wants to hear Eren’s voice against his earlobes as he murmurs words of love to him, he wants to feel the sweaty, sex-exhausted puffs of air that his lover elicits against his neck as Levi thrusts himself back into Eren’s gorgeously tan body, their chests colliding as Levi works Eren to his limit and-

                “Levi,” Hanji gasps, “Is the blondie Eren’s roommate?”

                “Yes,” Levi sighs.

                “You don’t like him?”

                “No.”

                “Why not?”

                Jean simpers, throwing both of his arms around Eren and curling his fingers around his hips. He pulls Eren up into his lap, where he rests the boy on his leg and settles his head on Eren’s shoulder. Eren holds his phone out again, ready to take another picture.

                Levi has to hold himself back from growling. While Jean looks a bit uncomfortable, his back stiff and hands hardly connecting with Eren’s waist, Eren looks just fine. Eren shouldn’t look so happy. This is the guy who let Eren fall into an eating disorder, this is the guy who let Eren cut himself and never bothered to help him. And Eren’s just sitting on his leg like that’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

                “Oh,” Hanji giggles, “Oh, _Levi._ Are you jealous?”

                “No.”

                “Yes, you are!” she squeals, “Aw, Levi, you’re cute when you’re envious. And scary. You’re scary, too.”

                “I’m not envious,” Levi grits his teeth. He’s one more comment away from slamming Hanji’s face into the table.

                Eren shifts – Levi _knows_ he sees Eren glance his way this time – and he reels his head back, whispering something else against Jean’s face. His face is much too close, and he extends his neck and runs his fingers over his inner thighs – Levi’s not sure whether it’s out of habit, or whether it’s because he’s just a dick who wants to make Levi green-eyed. Jean looks shocked, eyes dancing around the room as he tries to figure out what he’s supposed to do.

                Levi stands up, chair scraping rather loudly across the floor. He grabs a napkin dispenser from a different table and stands back, pulling his arm back like he’s playing baseball, and he hurls the object at Jean. It hits him right in the eye, and Jean immediately shoves Eren off of his leg. Jean covers his eye with his hand, blindly trying to find the source of the napkin dispenser. Eren scrambles up off of the floor, meeting gazes with Levi, pulling his best puppy eyes and batting his eyelashes innocently.

                Hanji’s rolling over in laughter, rubbing her eyes and nearly drooling with amusement. She’s chanting a chorus of, _“Oh, Levi,”_ while Jean glares at him, finally having realized that it was Levi who almost made him lose his eyesight. Jean’s glare doesn’t hold so strong against Levi’s maniacal demon glower, however.

                “Eren,” Levi calls, ignoring the fact that Hanji’s choking on her own laughter next to him.

                “Yeah?” Eren says, widening his eyes even further. Fuck, he’s cute.

                “Let’s go home.”

                “Home?”

                “Yes.”

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren shuffles in through Levi’s front door, sandwiched between Levi, in the front, and Hanji in the back. Hanji keeps trying to ask him questions, rather personal questions at that, and every time Eren tries to bring Levi into the conversation, he’s met with a scowl and piercing gray eyes.

                It’s not until the three of them are inside Levi’s house that Levi grabs Eren’s wrist and drags him into his living room, shoving him into a chair and moving said chair forward a few inches, sparing Levi the extra two steps it would take to walk up to Eren.

                Eren sprawls around in the chair until he’s upright, gripping the arms of the chair as Levi hovers over him. He’s short, but his intimidating stance makes him look so much bigger than he really is. Hanji stands by, looking eager to join in, but holding herself back when Levi gives her an unamused look.

                “Eren,” Levi says. Eren tries his best to look naïve – Levi seems to have a weak spot for Eren’s purity.

                “Yeah, Levi?”

                “I’m not very happy right now.”

                “I can tell.”         

                Hanji covers her mouth, bending over in a fit of laughter. Eren’s not too sure why she finds that so funny, and Levi sighs, hearing her behind him.

                “Hanji,” Levi says, not leaving Eren’s stare, “Go make us some breakfast.”

                “Breakfast?” she responds, “But it’s-“

                “ _Breakfast._ ”

                “Yes, sir!” Hanji salutes him and dashes off, her rapid footsteps sending echoes throughout the house.

                “So, _Eren,”_ Levi drops his voice, leaning close to Eren. He props himself up by holding onto the back of Eren’s chair with one hand, the other palm going to wrap around Eren’s jaw.

                “Uh, yeah?”

                “Let’s play a game.”

                Eren nods, knowing exactly what Levi’s talking about. “Who goes first?”

                “You can start this time, if you want,” Levi says, closing in on Eren as if he’s about to kiss him. He doesn’t just yet, however.

                Eren thinks for a moment, before deciding on a question. “Okay, question one. Are you mad at me?”

                Levi considers this, before sighing. “No.”

                Eren grins, taking the initiative to be the one to peck Levi with a kiss. He pulls back, only to be thrown back in with Levi pressing his lips against Eren’s once more, going in for the kill with his tongue against Eren’s lips. Eren allows him inside, moving his tongue in rhythm with Levi’s, allowing his grunts to fill the tranquil air. Eren wraps his arms around Levi’s neck, trying to drag him even closer, loving the taste of _Levi_ against his mouth. Levi grips a hand to the top part of Eren’s thigh, rubbing it coarsely and shoving the fabric of Eren’s pants up.

                Eren lets out short huffs of air as Levi periodically releases his lips, only for his breaths to be muffled by Levi pushing against his mouth again. Within moments, there's more of Levi in his mouth than there is his own saliva, but Eren can't say he minds. He, in fact, finds himself wanting  _more and more,_ he wants Levi to kiss him until his cheeks are a bright red and his lips are a color to match. 

                Despite his ferocious acts, it’s still Levi who releases Eren first. He slowly removes himself from Eren, unwrapping the arms around his neck and pressing one last kiss to Eren’s forehead before standing up.

                “Moving on,” Levi continues as if nothing had just happened between the two of them, “I’d hate to interrupt our game before really even starting it, but I have something I should probably tell you. I feel horrible for doing this, and I know you won’t forgive me for it, but I still need to tell you.”

                Eren blinks, breath hitching. That doesn’t sound good. At all.

                “What is it?” he asks, expecting the worst. He can feel himself start sweating, and he nervously runs his hands down his thighs, awaiting Levi’s confession. The kiss they shared was so magnificent; it’s amazing how his emotions can go from one hundred to zero in a split second like this. He fears for what Levi might say – with the way he’s presenting it, Eren wouldn’t be too shocked to hear that Levi killed a man or was caught drug dealing.

                Levi waits a moment, thinking. He then says, “Hanji and I broke into your apartment and went through your stuff.”

                Eren stares at Levi for a moment, before furrowing his eyebrows. “You- I- What? Why? Why would you-?”

                “I was worried about you.”

                “So? That doesn’t mean you can just _go through my stuff,”_ Eren barks, feeling a mixture of anxiety and absolute anger. What if Levi’s found his more personal items? The things he uses to split open his skin, the things he uses to measure his weight? Levi would be _furious._ And Eren, _he’s_ furious because Levi has zero right to do such a thing to Eren. It’s invading, and overall, it’s _creepy._

                “I know. I’m sorry.”

                Eren wants to stay mad. He wants to stay _really_ mad, because if he lets Levi get away with this, then where will it end? Levi’s smart, but what if he catches on to the fact that Eren’s afraid to let him go? Then he’ll just do whatever he pleases, knowing that Eren will forgive him in the blink of an eye.

                Eren can’t give into his urges, his urge to tell Levi it’s alright as long as it never happens again, his urge to curl up against Levi and make him promise that he’ll at least _ask_ before ever going through Eren’s room again.

                And so, Eren sits back, crossing his ankles in front of him and mimicking the movement with his arms and wrists. He glares at Levi, putting on his least entertained face. He contemplates getting up and just straight up leaving, but Levi speaks up, distracting Eren.

                “Listen, Eren,” he says, “I know it’s unforgivable. If you want, you can go through all of my shit. Or, instead, we can continue with our game, and I’ll give you something even _better._  You know, as an apology.”

                Eren contemplates this. He doesn’t want to give in. He can’t give in. He’s more than just a puppet for Levi to invade and do as he pleases. Levi might be nearly middle-aged, but that _doesn’t_ mean that he’s allowed to do whatever he wants.

                Eren, however, is intrigued by Levi’s promise of ‘something even better.’ “Fine.”

                “It’s your turn right now, though, so take your best shot,” Levi nods.

                “Um, okay, how about this?” Eren raises his voice, “Can you promise never to go through my stuff like that again, without my permission?”

                “I promise.”

                “Really?”

                “I do.”

                “If you go back on that promise, I leave you.” It hurts to say it, but Levi needs discipline, as weird as it is to think. He can’t just barge into people’s rooms just so he can follow said person. Hanji, too, though Eren’s not sure if there’s any way to convince Hanji of anything.

                Eren’s nineteen years old. He doesn’t need a clingy boyfriend to tell him who to hang out with. And he _doesn’t_ need a clingy boyfriend to throw napkin dispensers at the people he doesn’t approve of. Eren can think for himself.

                But then again, Eren _did_ allow himself to believe that he was _hideous._

                “I understand,” Levi says sullenly.

                “Good. I love you.”

                “I love you, too. I’m sorry.”

                “Your turn.”

                “Question two,” Levi says, a little more enthusiastically, “How would you feel if I took you on an adventure?”

                “An adventure?” Eren laughs.

                Levi nods, holding his hand out for Eren to grab. He’s pulled up, and Levi presses a finger to his lips, shushing him. He then walks around behind Eren and wraps something over his eyes, a thick fabric blinding him. Eren briefly wonders when Levi got the blindfold, and if he just happens to carry them around with him like it’s a normal thing. Levi wraps an arm around Eren’s waist, and he pulls Eren along, guiding him. Eren asks about Hanji, but Levi blows it off by saying that she’ll be fine, she’ll probably still be cooking by the time they get back.

                Eren would say that he doesn’t like being led blindly, but he trusts Levi. He trusts that Levi’s not going to hurt him. And he likes the feeling of Levi’s fingertips, which slip under the hem of his shirt and brush the small of his back, pushing him forward. The contact of their skin sends shivers throughout Eren, pleasure building in his hips and waist, where Levi’s fingers touch. Wherever they’re going, Eren hopes that it’s somewhere where he’ll be allowed to touch Levi just a little bit more – Levi’s skin is cool, but somehow it’s so _warming._

The walk is relatively peaceful – Eren’s comforted by the occasional run of Levi’s hand over his lower back, the soft patting of their feet in sync as they walk. If he were in this situation with anybody but Levi, Eren would be unsettled, he’d refuse to comply.

                But this _is_ Levi. And Levi’s his _boyfriend._

                “Are we there yet?” Eren whines. The wind hits his face, drying his lips and throat.

                “Almost. Now, hush, brat,” Levi responds. He rubs his hands back and forth gently on Eren’s hips, and it’s only now that Eren realizes that Levi’s trying to warm him.

                Eren has to conceal his smirk as an idea hits him. He subtly moves his hands up and starts rubbing his upper arms, revealing fake shivers as he carefully vibrates his waist against Levi’s fingers. Eren already has goosebumps, which helps his plan.

                Levi apparently doesn’t notice the movements, so Eren ups the ante by sighing exasperatingly, running his palms up and over his shoulders and down his wrists. It’s not that he _isn’t_ cold – the chilled air burns against his cuts and makes his sore muscles ache. But Eren would normally just push on, because he’s used to the pain.

                “What’s wrong, mon bébé?” Levi grunts in response to Eren’s sigh.

                “It’s cold.”

                “You should’ve worn a jacket.”

                “You could just give me _yours,_ ” Eren murmurs.

                “I already gave you one of my jackets.”

                “You have more.”

                “Are you trying to steal _all_ of my clothing?” Levi accuses.

                “If you’ll let me,” Eren teases.

                Levi lets out a _tch_ noise, but he lets go of Eren’s waist. Eren hears the faint noise of cloth ruffling, and he’s soon solaced by the feeling of warm, cherry-scented fabric against his shoulders. Eren curls up into it, allowing the cloth to fall loose as he keeps the coat on by clutching the collar with his fingers, his arms remaining outside of the sleeves but still under the jacket. He’s not sure where Levi is, so he flashes a smug smile down at the ground. Levi lightly slaps Eren’s hip in response.

                “Are we there yet?” Eren asks again, searching the air for Levi’s hand. He finds it, though he has a strong suspicion that Levi was holding his hand out for Eren to find, and he pulls it close to his chest, engulfing Levi’s palm between his many fingers.

                “We are,” Levi says. Eren lets go of Levi and reaches up, pulling the blindfold off of his face.

                Eren flutters his eyelashes, pupils adjusting to the new lighting. In front of him sits a rectangular building, a relatively small structure painted a dull gray. There’s a sign nearby, indicating that it’s a place for people to go to-

                What?

                No.

                Eren blinks, turning around to try and figure out where Levi had _really_ meant to take Eren. Because Levi wouldn’t make Eren go to a therapist. Levi’s the kind of guy who would try and heal Eren himself, if he thought that Eren needed help. Right?       

                Eren whirls his head around, eyes skimming the surrounding buildings. There’s a graveyard nearby, and to be honest, Eren would rather be visiting a tombstone than visiting a therapist. Hell, he’d rather be _in the ground_ than sitting in front of an asshole who just wants his monthly paycheck.

                In a graveyard, Eren would be merely _admiring_ the dead. With a therapist, Eren would be wishing _he_ were dead.

                This can’t be where Levi’s planned to take Eren. This can’t be the ‘even better’ he was talking about. Levi’s a liar, if that’s the case. Eren should’ve left when he had the chance. He doesn’t give a shit if this is for his benefit. He’d rather die than do this.

                None of the other establishments around have any business signs on them, which makes Eren’s heart go into overdrive. He will _not_ go to a therapist. He will _not._ A graveyard? Sure. A therapist? Hell no.

                “Come on,” Levi grabs Eren’s arm and pulls him towards Satan’s gray hellhole.

                “Uh,” Eren struggles against Levi’s grasp, but Levi’s not by any means weak. He continues dragging Eren, as if he’d been preparing for Eren’s resistance. “ _Let go of me_ ,” Eren growls, squirming.

                “Sorry, Eren,” Levi says, but Eren can tell that he’s not really sorry at all. And it angers Eren. His apology towards going through Eren’s stuff had been so genuine, why isn’t he legitimately sorry about _this_?

                The two of them enter the building, and Eren’s eyes are greeted with artificial lighting and happy posters of people with fake smiles. There are sleek, black chairs lining the walls to either side of them, and across the room sits a desk with a young woman behind it who, judging by the loathsome expression on her face, looks like she’s ready to be put in the graveyard next door. Just like Eren.

                Eren and Levi are in a barren waiting room, and even the poor plants beside the front entrance look like they’re just dying to leave. Eren can’t blame them. He wants to leave too, and he’s hardly been here for more than a minute.

                “Sit down,” Levi commands, “I already made you an appointment, so I’ll sort out the details. You just wait here.”

                Eren nods, though he can hardly hear Levi. The pounding of his heart fills his ears with a concert, his legs trembling, and suddenly, the smell of Levi’s jacket is intoxicating.

                He’s tempted to make a break for it and run. But if he runs, how long until Levi catches him? Levi’s incredibly fit. Even if he doesn’t notice that Eren’s gone for a good fifteen minutes, Eren doesn’t doubt that Levi would still be able to catch up to him and drag him back here. The only ways to get out of this would be to either kill himself, kill everyone else, or change his name and move far, far away. And unfortunately, the first option is permanent, the second one is illegal, and with the third one, it would still mean that Eren has to attend _this_ therapy session. There’s no winning here.

                It’s too late to act happy, now. It’s too late, to lie and say that he’s fine, to scarf down an entire meal and give Levi a thumbs-up and pretend like it’s not twisting his insides. It’s too late to pretend that he’s perfectly healthy, because no matter what, he’ll still end up here, in therapy, now that Levi’s apparently decided that he needs it. Fuck this guy, if Eren hadn’t accepted his offer of a movie date so long ago, Eren wouldn’t be here. He’d still be standing in front of his mirror, in near tears over how much he hates his appearance. He’d probably be dead by now, in fact.

                It’s disgusting. Eren’s life is shit, because no matter what he does, he has to sit through hell. By falling in love with Levi, he’s backed himself into an irreversible corner in which he’s going to _have_ to attend therapy in order to appease his lover. Eren knows that now, just lying back and eating and _saying_ he’s fine won’t be enough. He’s revealed so much of his thoughts and attitude to Levi, Levi would probably still have brought him here even if Eren had sat down and eaten the goddamned dining table right in front of him.

                On the other hand, however, if Eren had refused to date Levi, than Eren would have to sit through day after day of self-loathing and falling further into a depression that threatens to devour him whole. Before Levi, that’s exactly what Eren did. But now, _with_ Levi, Eren has someone to talk to, someone who will listen and provide warm hugs and soft kisses.

                Eren doesn’t _have_ to go with what Levi wants. But he’s already admitted that he loves the man, and it physically pains him to think about leaving Levi just because he doesn’t want to attend a bullshit appointment. And that may or may not scare him, how  _dependent_ he's become.

                Eren doesn’t sit down, like Levi requested. His nerves prohibit his movement, it paralyzes him. The core of his muscles are frozen, but around them his body shakes uneasily, his thighs moving of their own will and his teeth chattering, adding to the orchestra of his heart pounding against his chest. His cheeks feel awfully warm, and Eren _swears_ he can feel himself deteriorate just a bit more with each unsteady inhale and choked exhale. His eyes are so wide that it hurts, but he can’t bring himself to blink. He just wants _out of here._ To be anywhere but here right now. He didn’t even get time to mentally prepare himself for this, it’s so out of the blue.

                Levi’s at the front desk, writing on a piece of paper while the woman behind the counter tries to make small talk with him. She looks distraught, likely thrown in disarray from being approached by such a short man with such a deadly glare. She also looks a bit interested in Levi, though, which doesn’t put Eren at any ease – if anything, it causes him more stress, because the woman is actually _really_ pretty and Eren’s not, Eren looks like hell, why is Levi still with him? Does he feel obligated to, now that he knows of Eren’s problems? Levi should just leave him. He’ll probably be much happier with someone who _doesn’t_ think about killing themselves on a daily basis, and who better than the beautiful woman flirting with him right now?

                She twirls her hair around her finger, and though Levi doesn’t spare her more than a glance, it hurts Eren. It hurts, because she has long, luscious hair, and she has visibly soft skin, and her eyes glow like the sun on a good day, and she has the biggest bosom Eren’s ever seen on a girl. She’s not wearing any rings, as far as Eren can tell, so she’s likely single, as well.

                 _She’s_ the kind of person Levi deserves. Gorgeous, confident, and bringing in cash.

                Eren’s not gorgeous. He has dark bags under his eyes and he has bruises on his legs from who-knows-what.

                Eren’s not confident. He hates even so much as looking at the reflection of himself in the eyes of others.

                Eren doesn’t have a job. He has no special talent. He has no source of income.

                What could _possibly_ be in Eren that Levi finds attractive? Eren can’t think of anything. And as the woman behind the desk lures Levi further and further under her spell, Eren leads himself closer and closer to wanting to find the sharpest object in the room and stab himself with it.

                Eren reaches down, wrapping his fingers around his wrist. He rubs his cuts, tracing the exact pattern of them - it’s no wonder Levi thinks he needs a therapist. He has more scar than skin on his forearm.

                Eren has no idea how he’ll be able to talk to a therapist. He’s just recently learned to open up to Levi. He loves Levi, he’s willing to try new things for the man – but _therapy?_ He’d rather go bungee jumping off the Grand Canyon without a cord.

                Levi turns away from the front desk, much to Eren’s relief, and he makes his way back towards Eren. His face lacks any emotion, his gray eyes remaining narrowed and his eyebrows set evenly across his forehead. He _must_ notice how tense Eren is, but if he does, he says nothing about it.

                “They’re coming to get you soon,” Levi voices. He reaches out and grabs one of Eren’s hands, pulling Eren down into a seat next to him.

                Eren grows increasingly desperate, mind racing, searching for a way to get out of this. He comes up short, but an idea strikes him at the last minute, as the woman behind the front desk leaves, heading off into a back room. It’s a stupid idea, what comes to mind, and Eren’s embarrassed just thinking about it. He doesn’t even know if it’ll work, and Levi probably will just shove Eren off, especially after he got an eyeful of the walking sex machine that works the front counter. But Eren’s still going to try it, because there’s a possibility of its success.

                Eren reaches up, pulling the collar of his shirt down to reveal as much skin as possible. He takes Levi’s coat off, setting it behind him in the seat. He then leans over the arm of his chair, placing himself close to Levi’s ear. He can’t see Levi’s eyes very well from this position, but he can just tell that they’re filled with suspicion.

                “Levi?” Eren tries, keeping his voice at a whisper. He drawls out the last syllable, lifting a hand to ghost his fingers over Levi’s chin.

                “Yes?” Levi says, leaning back to glare at Eren. Eren doesn’t let it faze him as he moves himself down to Levi’s neck.

                “You know,” Eren purrs, pressing his lips to the skin below Levi’s ear, “You look _really_ nice in that shirt.”

                “I wear this sort of shirt every day.”

                Eren blinks, but keeps going. He nibbles on Levi, and he’s almost surprised when Levi, instead of pulling away, leans into Eren’s touch.

                “And you look nice, _every day,_ ” Eren murmurs, kissing the part of Levi that he’d been biting. “You know what you’d look even better in, though?”

                “What?” Levi says, not bothering to lower his voice. “I didn’t know we were going clothes shopping.”

                “Nothing _,_ ” Eren ignores Levi’s comment. “You’d look better wearing _nothing_.” He snakes his fingers away from Levi’s chin and slips them down beneath his collar, running over the smooth skin of Levi’s collarbones. “And I think you’d look your absolute best, wearing nothing and hovering _on top of me._ ”

                “I see,” Levi murmurs, catching on, “And what would I be doing, on top of you?”

                “Oh, I don’t know,” Eren teases, putting forth all of his effort to keep his voice even and to keep his fingers from violently quaking to reveal just how nervous he really is, “Maybe you want to try something new with me. Maybe you’re into, ah, _fisting –_ we could try that. I don’t know if it’d fit, but with a little practice, we could get there.”

                “Fisting?” Levi’s tone betrays amusement as he leans back to look into Eren’s eyes, “You could hardly handle two fingers.”

                “It’ll stretch.”

                “You think so?”

                “If not, we can always try something else. Maybe you’d like roleplaying, _daddy._ ” Eren bites his lower lip, hoping and praying that Levi won’t laugh at the suggestion.

                “I’m not _that_ old,” Levi simply mutters.

                “Daddy can spank me if he’s mad.” Eren feels _beyond_ embarrassed right now, but it provides some sort of consolation, the fact that Levi’s not shrugging off his suggestion. In fact, Eren might say that Levi seems to _like_ what Eren’s telling him, if his little friend is any indication.

                “I’m not mad,” Levi whispers, not appearing upset by Eren’s requests but at the same time not exactly complying with them.

                “Let’s go, then,” Eren purrs, moving his hand out of Levi’s shirt and pressing his palm to Levi’s thigh. He tickles the inside of Levi’s leg, fingers _dangerously_ close to Levi’s apparent erection showing through his pants. “I’m ready if you are.”

                Levi pauses, eyes searching Eren’s for a brief moment before pushing him away. Eren falls back, his butt fully in his seat and hands gripping the arm of the chair. Levi’s semi-lustful expression has faded away, the unamused dullness returning to his face.

                “I see what you’re doing,” Levi growls, crossing his arms.

                “What am I doing?”

                “You’re trying to make me take you home so you won’t have to attend this appointment.”

                “That’s not, that’s not true,” Eren defends, cursing himself for tripping over his words. “I just-“

                A door opens nearby, and out of it walks a fairly tall woman, and Eren actually _recognizes_ her – the freckles, the tan skin, the brown hair. So long ago, when Eren had ran into Krista on the street, _this_ was the woman she was with. Eren hadn’t paid her much mind, he couldn’t, she was only around for a second, and she said nothing to Eren – but the image of her face managed to stick. Just like Krista’s goddess-like figure, the face of her freckled accomplice never faded from Eren’s memory. He doesn’t know why, but something about being approached by a youthful girl and asked if he’s okay, it hit Eren in a place that he couldn’t quite place. A sort of realization blossomed in him, that what he feels about himself reflects outwardly, and even the most innocent passerby's of the world can see his pain. That, or Krista was merely worried because apparently her friend’s a therapist, and she can now recognize when someone’s hurting. Either way, it affected Eren, and he'd tried his hardest not to think about the encounter after it happened. He’d managed to successfully push it away, but the nostalgia floods back to him once again, seeing this woman’s face.

                “Eren Jaeger?” she calls out, monotone. As if she needs to, there’s literally nobody else around but Eren and Levi.

                She glances around the room, eyes falling on Eren as he stands up. He sends one last, pleading look to Levi as he walks towards the woman, but Levi says nothing.

                “You can bring your friend,” she says impatiently.

                Eren feels a little relief at that, and he turns around to gather Levi, but Levi’s already at his side. He must have known that he’d be allowed to be with Eren. That, or he’s just really fast to stand up.

                The woman leads Eren and Levi down a short hallway and into an unnervingly homely-looking room off to the side. The walls are a dull white; the floor’s carpeted with a fuzzy wool rug. In the center of the room sits three plush chairs, surrounding a dark coffee table. There’s a desk in the corner of the room, and on it sits a bunch of papers.

                Eren swallows roughly. His throat’s dry, and he must look as scared as he feels, because he feels Levi place his hand on his lower back and rub up and down it. Levi’s holding his jacket around his arm, and Eren’s torn between begging for it back and telling Levi to go burn it. He needs something to clutch onto now, besides his own skin, but he’s not sure if he can handle that much of Levi’s scent right now.

                “Sit down,” the woman commands, motioning towards the chairs. “Please,” she begrudgingly adds.

                Eren follows orders, unsure of what else to do. He sits down, and Levi takes it upon himself to grab to closest chair to Eren and pull it _even closer._ Eren gives him the best puppy eyes he can conjure, a silent “thank you” for putting up with Eren’s bullshit. Levi remains silent, but he runs a quick hand through Eren’s hair.

                The woman plunders through her desk, sighing as she pulls out a sheet of paper. She attaches it to a clipboard and grabs a pen, moving back towards Eren and handing him the supplies.

                “First things first,” she says, “My name’s Ymir. I need you to fill out this sheet.”

                Eren nods, looking down at the paper. It’s a series of questions, and the directions say to rate each item from one to ten, one being equivalent to ‘the least’ and ten being equivalent to ‘the most.’ It doesn’t seem to be too long, but the sheet is double-sided and the font is pretty small.

                Ymir leaves the room, allowing Eren and Levi to proceed about their business alone. Eren’s grateful for this, of course – he’s still not very comfortable with the idea of talking about himself in front of somebody, and even worse would be sitting in silence or in the midst of awkward small talk as he fights the anxious tears wanting to spill over his cheeks.

                “What’s the first question?” Levi asks, sitting back in his seat casually. He reaches a hand over and plays idly with the ends of Eren’s hair, twirling his finger around the loose strands.

                “Uh,” Eren looks down at the paper, willing his eyes to stay focused, “’How much sleep have you gotten this past week? Rate one through ten, one being the least and ten being the most.’”

                “I’d say you’ve gotten a fair amount of rest, Sleeping Beauty. But then again, you’ve only slept with me for a few nights thus far.”

                Eren rolls his eyes, blushing, but his head’s turned away from Levi. He chews his lip nervously, writing down a sloppy ‘nine’ on the paper.

                “Next question,” Eren says, “’How much have you eaten this past week?’”

                Levi’s movements on Eren’s hair halt for a second, but he quickly starts up again, shifting from just the ends of Eren’s hair to running his entire palm over the back of Eren’s head, essentially petting him. “I think you can answer that one yourself.”

                Eren hesitates. He considers lying, writing a big fat ‘ten’ on the form – it would be the only explanation for his ugly ass. But if Levi saw that he wrote something like that, that he would blatantly _lie_ when Levi’s putting so much forth to try and help Eren, Eren would feel unceasingly guilty. He sighs, and settles on an easy ‘three,’ though he fears that might be stretching it.

                Eren rubs his head back against Levi’s hand. Levi massages him, seemingly understanding how tense Eren feels – he’s only on the second question, and yet he already wants to throw the paper down and quit. But Levi murmurs something about him having confidence in Eren, and Eren repeats his words over in his head as he looks back down at the sheet and works on the next few questions.

                They aren’t particularly hard questions. The only part Eren has difficulty with is deciding which number, from one to ten, best suits him. One question asks about his anxiety, which stumps Eren – he’s not sure how to differentiate between the near-constant nervousness, the guilt, the hunger, the fear, and the unease. They all feel nearly the same – they all elicit the familiar pain in his gut, the aching of his chest and his stomach and his head. So Eren decides to write a ‘seven’ – his anxiety isn’t the worst, but it’s up there.

                There’s only one question that truly sticks out. It asks about whether Eren has suicidal thoughts or not, and rather than the usual ‘one to ten’ theme that the rest of the form has, this question has a check box. Eren’s reluctant to mark it, but _that_ would be the worst lie of them all - to say that he doesn’t want to kill himself when, truthfully, the thought runs through his head nearly every day. He’d be denying himself the ability to get better by lying.

                But _does_ Eren want to get better? He doesn’t know. He can’t remember what it feels like, to not wake up and hate every part of his body and his mind. It sounds amazing, to think that there’s the possibility that one day Eren will be able to look at himself and think the things he used to think – that he looks nice, that he’s worth being seen. But a part of Eren believes that there’s no going back to that now, it’s too late. He’s been through too much, and he’s thought too many horrible things about himself.

                The cuts on his wrists don’t help – if he were to lie and say that he doesn’t have suicidal thoughts, how would he explain the scars? How would he explain the reluctance towards eating, the depression that hovers over him every day?

                Eren reluctantly marks the box, indicating that he _does,_ in fact, have recurring suicidal thoughts. He tries not to look over at Levi – he knows that the man is probably peering over his shoulder, watching as Eren writes on the sheet. It pains Eren, to think that if he looks over at Levi now, he might be met with the sight of Levi looking at him with a sort of sadness in his eyes. It’s selfish of him, to want that out of Levi, to _want_ to know that Levi cares about him. But Eren can’t help himself, and when Levi’s hand moves from his hair down to caress his shoulder blades, Eren easily leans into the touch and murmurs a quick apology to the man. Levi grunts in response, and Eren can’t tell if Levi knows why Eren’s apologizing or not.

                Eren runs through the rest of the questions on the sheet, trying not to focus too much on a single inquiry. He wants to be done with it, and once he is, he tosses the clipboard on the coffee table in front of him and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. Levi’s hand has moved from his back to his leg, tracing meaningless patterns along Eren’s inner thigh. Eren nudges his leg just a bit closer to Levi, allowing the man more access to his body.

                Eren’s heart freezes in his chest as he watches Levi lean over and, with his free hand, pick up the clipboard that Eren just dropped. He reads over the paper, and Eren can’t help but feel like his privacy’s being invaded, once again – it’s not like Levi wouldn’t find out all of this information sooner or later, but something about having him learn all of this about Eren at once, while he sits next to Eren himself, it’s unnerving. Nothing too personal was written down, but it still doesn’t quite sit well with Eren. Levi needs to learn to mind his own damn business.

                Eren wants to punch himself. He shouldn’t feel this way. He trusts Levi. Levi trusts him. Levi wouldn’t leave him, he _hasn’t_ left him, though he most certainly should. Who wants to be stuck with a suicidal idiot? Nobody does. Except for, apparently, Levi.

                Eren, though, feels like he’d rather _not_ have Levi _read_ about Eren’s ‘nine’ on a scale of how often Eren feels lonely, about his ‘six’ on a scale of how often he uses social media. He doesn’t want Levi to find out about all of this through pointless _numbers._ He wants to curl up into Levi’s lap, to snuggle against his neck as he murmurs his _true_ feelings to the man and why he feels that way. But Eren’s not even sure that he’ll be able to put it into words – it all just sort of _happens._ It just happens, that his mood plummets when he’s left alone. It just happens, that he wants to die when he thinks too much.

                Levi doesn’t spend too much time looking at Eren’s answers, much to Eren’s relief. He tosses the clipboard back into the spot that Eren had put it a moment ago, and he sits back, shifting from using just his fingers against Eren’s leg to rubbing it with his whole hand. Levi has very fair hands, they’re not too big but at the same time, they aren’t by any means small. His hand nearly engulfs the width of Eren’s thigh, his fingers thin in comparison to the rest of his sculpted body.

                Eren reaches down and stops Levi’s movements against his leg. He interlocks their fingers, his bony, tan palm curling around Levi’s pale one. Levi doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t look at Eren, choosing instead to focus his sights on the pictures hanging from the wall, but he moves his hand with Eren, squeezing Eren’s hand and rubbing his thumb over Eren’s skin.

                “I love you,” Eren murmurs, watching the way that Levi so carefully strokes him. Eren would give anything to be somewhere else, to be at Levi’s house, curled up next to him under the sheets of his bed as the chirping of birds outside fills the air and as Levi’s soft fingers kiss his body in places he’d never dreamed of having someone touch.

                But they _aren’t_ at Levi’s house, they _aren’t_ alone, and at any moment, Ymir will walk back in and Eren will be forced to admit things that he’d rather die than have known.

                “Levi?” Eren whispers, noticing that Levi hasn’t said anything back to him. Levi continues to be unresponsive, and the walls that Levi had managed to break down for Eren are slowly rebuilding themselves, and Eren tries his hardest to think nothing of Levi’s silence. It hurts him though, it fills his chest with a horrible ache that brings tears to his eyes. And when the tears slip out, the lack of arms around him and the lack of plush kisses to his forehead causes his legs to tremble as he focuses all of his efforts on not sobbing audibly.

                Levi glances his way, tearing his eyes from where they were trained on a portrait above the desk in the corner of the room. His eyes widen slightly, and he pulls Eren into a quick, tight hug, his arms squeezing Eren so briefly.

                “What’s wrong, mon amour?” Levi asks as he pulls away from Eren, his hand reuniting with Eren’s cheek as he wipes the tears away.

                Eren wants to answer him. He does. But his throat’s grown a knot in it, and he can’t even open his mouth without releasing a sad whimper. Levi gets the idea, and instead of insisting that Eren spill his guts right then and there, he instead presses a quick kiss to Eren’s jaw and murmurs innocent French words against his cheek. Of course, that’s only what Eren assumes – he can’t speak French. For all he knows, Levi could be reciting an omelette recipe to him.

                Levi only pulls away once Ymir enters the room again. She, with her short hair pulled back and her narrowed eyes, briefly walks in to collect Eren’s papers. She looks down at Eren, and Eren swears he can see her eyes soften just a bit, but in that same split second they’re hardened once more. She leaves, making some sort of snide remark about Levi’s cold expression – though Eren would think that she doesn’t have much room to talk, what with her furrowed brows and small smirk.

                Once she’s gone again, Levi returns to his distant petting of Eren’s body while admiring the array of trinkets that line the extra space in the room, placed there for the sole purpose of making the room feel just a bit cozier. And it’s working – even though Eren wants to scream and plead to leave, the little details of the room help coax him into a silent mask. He grips Levi’s wrist, preventing the man from leaving, as if Levi _was_ going to leave. Levi murmurs a request to Eren about loosening his hold, but Eren ignores it and instead wraps himself around what he can of Levi’s arm.

                Ymir’s back in the room once more, having only been gone for a surprisingly short time. She’s holding the clipboard Eren used, but she holds it at such an angle that it’s impossible for Eren to tell if it still has Eren’s sheet on it, too. Ymir settles herself into the chair across from Eren and Levi, and Eren lets go of Levi’s arm as he perches himself on the edge of his seat, ready to get this over with.

                “Ah, _Eren,_ ” she says, “It’s nice to meet you.”

                There’s a sort of knowing sparkle in her eyes – she recognizes Eren. She definitely does. Eren can’t tell whether she’s truly happy to see him or not, though – she’s a therapist, she _must_ be glad that he’s getting help for his problems. Right? Or is there something that Eren doesn’t know here?

                “Are you ready to start, then?” Ymir asks, lounging back in her chair comfortably.

                Eren nods. He looks for Levi out of the corner of his eye, but Levi’s still preoccupied with whatever it is on the ceiling that’s caught his attention. Eren has a feeling that Levi’s just as nervous as Eren is, but Levi doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy who gets nervous very easily.

                It occurs to Eren that maybe Levi’s anxious because he knows that _Eren’s_ anxious.

                But why should Eren’s emotions affect Levi?

                Maybe he really _does_ love Eren. And Eren’s perfectly fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, finals week sucks. But anywho. Anybody else really, really like Fall Out Boy?


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone know where you can buy an engagement ring at?

                “How did it- _What happened to your eye?”_

                Jean grumbles an angry remark in response to Marco as he pushes him aside to look in a mirror. His eye’s _already_ turned a deep blue, and there’s a long cut stretching from the side of Jean’s nose to just below the outer corner of his eyelid.

                “ _Fuck_ that guy,” he mutters, pressing his fingers to and irritating the bruise, “Eren’s _boyfriend,_ fucking, threw a goddamn – the hell is that thing called? The silver things. That you get napkins from. He threw _that_ shit at me.”

                “Why?”

                “ _I don’t know,_ I’ll bet Eren did it on purpose, I know he did, that fucking asshole, he _used_ me to make his boyfriend jealous, and _I_ ended up getting hurt from it.”

                “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

                “The ice cream- _The ice cream._ He ate ice cream. Then he sat on my lap.”

                “I- What?”

                “ _Sat on me,_ that- Marco? Do you have any ice? My eye still hurts.”

                “Yeah,” Marco sighs, leaving, “Wait here.”

                Jean spends the few minutes of freedom admiring his new black eye. It throbs, the pain spreading in waves from beside his nose down to his neck.

                As soon as Eren was swept away by his knight in shining armor at the ice cream parlor, like the hopeless romantic he is, Jean angrily got up and stumbled his way, half-blinded, over to Marco’s house and pushed his way upstairs, only falling down exactly once. 

                He’s in Marco’s bedroom now – it’s small, no bigger than the room Jean shares with Eren, but it _looks_ a million times larger because Marco actually cleans up once in a while.

                “So _who_ hit you with _what?_ ” Marco asks, walking back into the room with a damp towel. No ice.

                “I don’t remember his name,” Jean growls, “Eren’s boyfriend, I think. He threw something at me, that _dick._ ”

                “ _Jean._ ”

                “What?”

                “Don’t call him that. You don’t even know him.”

                Jean sneers, ignoring the disappointed look on Marco’s face. In fact, just to agitate him further, he snatches the towel from Marco and turns back to his reflection, saying, “I’m surprised Eren can even _get_ a boyfriend, that _fatass._ ”

                “Jean?” Marco says after a hesitant moment.

                “Yeah?”

                “Look at me.”

                “Wh-“ Jean starts, whipping his head around to face Marco again.

                Before he even gets to see the look on his boyfriend’s face, there’s a sharp pain in his eye – the one left inflicted by Eren’s lover – and a numbness as his head connects with the mirror behind him. It doesn’t shatter, but it falls off of the wall, landing on the floor with a loud _thump._ His eye burns, the hurt mixing with the dulling of the other side of his face. It stretches across the top half of his face, his forehead aching and his eyes watering as his heart skips a beat.

                “Did- Did you- Did you just _punch_ me?” Jean utters, shocked.

                “I did.”

                “Why?”

                Jean rubs his eyes, groaning – he can’t see out of the one Marco hit. His sight’s blurred, but he can just tell that Marco’s giving him a look that would rival the ugly glare of Eren’s boyfriend.

                “I’m _tired,_ ” Marco barks, “Of you being such a _jerk_ to Eren. What did he even _do_ to you?”

                “I- He-“

                “And, on top of that, he’s under a lot of stress, and you _still_ can’t think before you speak?”

                “I didn’t mean to-“

                “ _And_ you still try to act like you’re not at fault here. I can handle you saying stuff like that in private, but don’t think I’ve forgotten that you said it _right to his face_ yesterday. I’ve told you to be nicer to him, but you don’t listen, so apparently the only way to get you to hear me is to use actual force.”

                Jean removes his hands from his eyes, trying to regain as much of his vision as possible through squinting and blinking. For someone who seems so gentle, Marco packs quite a punch.

                “I’m sorry,” Jean mutters. He doesn’t ever really _mean_ any of the things he says to and about Eren – it’s just, he’s grown so accustomed to it, it’s almost awkward for him to _not_ insult him every opportunity he gets.

                “Really? Are you _really_ sorry?” Marco scolds, “Or are you just saying that?”

                “I mean it.”

                “Prove it, then.”

                “How?”

                “I don’t know,” Marco sighs, “Buy him flowers or something.”

                “Maybe _if I could see_ ,” Jean tries his best to glare, but everything above his jaw is in absolute pain. “Besides, that’s so gay.”

                “Are we not dating?”

                “Doesn’t make it any less gay.”

                “Come on,” Marco grips his arm roughly, adding more pain to Jean, “I’ll help you. If you say _one_ more thing about Eren, though, I’m going to make you _actually_ go blind.”

                Jean curls his lip downward, stumbling as he’s dragged away. He reaches up and feels around the back of his head, and oh look, there’s a huge bump where his head hit the mirror a moment ago.

                Marco’s right, though – Jean’s been much too unfriendly to Eren in recent times. And maybe Jean deserved a punch to the eye. He certainly didn’t deserve to be hit by Eren’s boyfriend though, he hardly knows the guy.

                Or maybe he _did_ deserve that, too. It doesn’t really matter anymore. What’s done is done, and now, he knows for a fact that Marco’s going to force him to go through the humiliation of an apology in person. Over the phone was easier, he didn’t have to see Eren’s face – but if he _is_ going to end up buying Eren something, it most definitely means that he’s going to have to stand in front of him and give a speech about how wrong he was and how he’ll change.

                Eren didn’t deserve to be belittled so much. But he never said anything – he’s never once said that he takes actual offense to Jean’s words. And yet he _still_ let them ruin his life.

                Jean’s almost tempted to punch himself in the eye, too. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t hurt Eren, but not even a day had passed between that and the moment when he’d sat right next to Eren and called him a – what did he even say? He doesn’t remember. It was malicious; he knows _that,_ by the way that Eren’s midget boyfriend came at him like the angry little man he is.

                But Jean’s determined to make it up to Eren now. He’s guilty, he’s _been_ feeling guilty, and though there’s truly no way to make it up to Eren for what he’s done, he can at least try. And if Eren chooses not to forgive him, that’s fine – because Jean understands that what he’s done is unforgivable.

                He just has to hope that Eren’s leprechaun of a boyfriend won’t be there when he apologizes, because just having to look into Eren’s wide, sad puppy eyes is enough to move a person to tears. Jean really doesn’t need to be distracted by the presence of cold, narrowed pupils boring into his face, admiring the black eye he’d given him.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “So. Eren,” Ymir says, tapping her pen against her clipboard, “I’ll ask you some questions, and all you have to do is answer. If it’s too hard, Shorty right next to you can answer instead, or you can just look at him while you talk if it makes it more comfortable. Sound good?”

                Eren nods slowly, trying to relax his jaw, but it’s painful. It hurts to sit here, so tense, preparing to say things that he’s only ever _thought_ and never actually _spoken._

                Ymir seems nice enough. She has a very proud attitude about her, but it’s not a narcissistic or cocky kind of pride. It’s a more easygoing, sort of laid-back air.

                It still makes Eren nervous, though. But whether it’s because of the fact that he’s here, in a therapist’s office, or whether it’s because he’s about to have to spill his life story to a person who’s essentially a stranger, Eren’s not sure. It’s definitely a bit of both.

                “Alright, let’s see now – what exactly is the problem, then?” Ymir asks, her eyes trained on Eren.

                Eren hesitates, sending a pleading look over to Levi. They’re only on the first question, and he’s already at a loss. There’s no singular issue at hand – there are many, many little things that come together to create the shining image that is Eren Jaeger, from the lasting bouts of utter depression he goes through to the overall fact that he just doesn’t like himself and what he’s done.

                Levi notices Eren’s stare and takes the initiative to speak for him. “He doesn’t, ah, want to eat.”

                Eren looks away, nervously pinching his skin. This is going to be shit. It’s all going to go downhill from here, and it’s _already_ horrible. Eren’s cheeks flush, his chest still achy and his limbs completely sore. Ymir jots down a quick note, her pencil filling the silence, before speaking up again.

                “And when did this start?”

                Eren bites his lip. He’s already explained this to Levi, but does Levi even remember all of the details? Hopefully he does, because Eren really can’t talk right now. One word might just set him over the edge, into a pool of tears. Both Levi and Ymir remain quiet, waiting for Eren to speak up, but he _can’t._

                “What’s _your_ name, Shorty?” Ymir says after a minute of silence, and Eren looks up to see that she’s addressing Levi.

                “I’m sorry?” Levi glares at her, “It’s _Levi._ Not ‘Shorty.’”

                “Really? Sounds fancy,” she says, “You don’t look fancy, though.”

                “I don’t think you’re supposed to insult your patients.”

                “I’m just making small talk until Eren’s ready to talk,” Ymir shrugs, a smirk on her face as she looks only at Levi, “Besides, _you’re_ not my patient. Eren is.”

                “I’m the one paying for this.”

                “Doesn’t matter. You’re not the one I care about.”

                “You care about me?” Eren says before he can restrain himself. It’s weird, to hear someone say that they actually give a shit about his pathetic ass. He knows that there’s Levi who cares, and Marco, and Jean, and Mikasa, and Armin, but to have someone he hardly knows at all say something like that? It doesn’t feel right, but somehow, with the way Ymir says it, it feels all the same so _genuine._

                Ymir and Levi both turn their heads in Eren’s direction. Eren blushes, wanting to pretend like he hadn’t said anything, but it’s too late now. They’ve both heard.

                “’Course I do,” Ymir grins, “Do you remember Krista? Cute, adorable blonde girl? Was with me when she pulled you aside on the street, when was it, a week or two ago? Maybe you don’t remember her. She remembers you, though.”

                “What do you mean?” Eren asks, eyes searching Ymir’s face for any sign of untruthfulness. Everything Ymir says seems to be honest, though. But, then again, maybe she just has a very sincere facade.

                “After she tried to talk to you, and you pushed her away, she wouldn’t shut up about you for _at least_ three days. It’s really the only reason I remember who you are. Krista has a really soft side to her, and I think seeing you blubbering like that set her off. It’s not just you, though, she’s like that with all of my patients.”

                Eren raises his eyebrows, shocked by this. Ymir, his therapist, _remembers_ who he is and _remembers_ seeing him cry. She remembers seeing him at one of his lowest points, she remembers him even though she hadn’t said anything at the time. She sat back and watched, for whatever reason, as Krista tried to lure Eren into a conversation. If Eren had accepted, if he’d let Krista talk to him, would he still be here today? Would this still be his first therapy session, or would this have been his fiftieth? Would what Ymir says now be any different than what she would’ve said a week ago?

                “What is she talking about, Eren?” Levi tries, probably wanting to get up-to-date and not be left out. Levi seems to have some degree of want inside of him, a want to know every little part of Eren’s life and aid him through his issues. Some things just can’t be explained, however – how is he to tell Levi that he bumped into a cute girl with blonde hair and her tall, freckled companion who just so happens to be the therapist they’re visiting now? No matter how he says it in his head, it seems so insignificant. But that little bump on the street meant so much to Eren, it _still_ means so much to him.

                “Ah, Eren didn’t tell you?” Ymir’s grin grows impossibly wider, “Aw, little Shorty thought he knew everything about his friend, didn’t he? Don’t worry. I can tell. You have that protective look to you.”

                Levi squints at her, “We’re here for _Eren,_ not for you to tell me what I look like.”

                “Hey, _you’re_ the one who chose to come back here with him,” she shrugs, “But if you insist. Back on subject. Eren, what was it that I asked you?” She pauses. “Ah, _yes_. When did all of this start?”

                Eren looks back and forth from her to Levi. Ymir’s looking at Eren, her fingers loosely wrapped around the corners of her clipboard. She takes a second to pull back the sleeves of her shirt, her tan arms contrasting nicely with her light clothing. Her smile is smug, but not arrogant.

                Levi, on the other hand, looks venomous. Eren suspects it’s mostly because Ymir insists on calling Levi out, but it _could_ also be partially because of the fact that Eren’s taking so long to respond. He can’t help it, though. It’s _hard,_ and just thinking about everything that he’s done and thought and been through, it stings. It makes him want to kill himself, to end all of the suffering right now and to prevent himself from ever being haunted by this ever again – but, that’s _exactly_ what he’s trying to run away from now. The thoughts of killing himself. That’s what he’s here for, isn’t it? To halt those ideas, to turn him into a young boy who’s more preoccupied with scrubbing floors than he is with suicide.

                “Uh- Um,” Eren pauses, not sure how to start. How had he started, when he told this to Levi? “Well, I, uh, I have a roommate-”

                “How old are you?” Ymir asks, interrupting him.

                “Nineteen.”

                “I see. Continue,” she nods.

                “Oh. Uh. Well. I have a roommate, and he’s, um-“

                “An asshole,” Levi mutters. Eren kicks him in the shin, though Levi doesn’t even budge from the hit.

                “He’s just a little brash, is all,” Eren defends.

                “If by ‘brash,’ you mean ‘asshole,’ then yes,” Levi runs a quick hand through his hair.

                “I’m starting to think that _you’re_ the asshole,” Ymir grunts while looking at Levi, her eyes showing pure pleasure at the scowl on Levi’s face.

                “What did I say about insulting your patients?” Levi furrows his eyebrows at her.

                “And what did _I_ say about you not being my patient?” Ymir shoots back.

                “Anyways,” Eren interrupts, speaking loudly. He doesn’t want to have to watch Levi and Ymir kill each other, at least, not today. “My roommate. He’s, uh, he sort of has a thing for calling me names.”

                “Such as?” Ymir looks over at Eren, interested. “Good or bad names?”

                “Bad.”

                “Can you give me some examples?” she smiles sincerely at him, as if she didn’t just ask him to tell her something so personal. “Tell me the ones that really hurt.”

                Eren hesitates, his fingers wandering over to grasp Levi’s knee. He digs his nails into him, his knuckles protruding with all of the force he exerts. Levi doesn’t shoo him away, but he _does_ reach over and pull Eren’s grip loose. Eren releases, his hand falling flat and choosing to, instead of mauling Levi’s legs with his nails, he rubs small circles against him with his thumb. Levi places his own hand above Eren’s, lightly enough that Eren can still shift under it but firm enough that it’s reassuring. He glances over at Levi, but Levi’s not looking at him. He’s eyeing their hands.

                Ymir, though, sitting across from the two of them, seems completely unfazed by Eren’s search for comfort from Levi. She, in fact, almost looks like she’s _glad_ to see that Eren’s interlocking fingers with the man next to him, though he could’ve sworn Ymir wasn’t getting along with Levi just a moment ago.

                “Uh, I don’t know. They all kind of hurt,” Eren shrugs, “I can’t really say that any of them hurt more than others.”

                “Tell me at least one of them, then, I don’t care what it is,” Ymir says.

                Eren looks above Ymir, unable to handle staring at her face any longer. She has such piercing eyes, it’s as if she’s been trained to see past bullshit. Which Eren’s full of.

                Above Ymir sits several framed pictures, none of which are very creative or thought-provoking. Eren would almost go so far as to say that they’re _cheesy,_ stupid sayings that mean nothing written in large letters against an ugly background. It’s an eyesore to look at, but it’s better than staring into Ymir’s eyes, or at Levi’s unfeeling face. It’s like Levi’s face is completely separate from his body – his fingers tighten around Eren’s hand periodically, squeezing and releasing to show that he does, in fact, care and understand what Eren’s feeling, but his face is devoid of any and all emotion.

                “Stupid,” Eren mutters, his courage dwindling with each syllable. He adds, “Ugly. Gross. _Fat._ ”

                Ymir doesn’t respond immediately, allowing Eren a moment to speak up again if he wishes. She then says, “How recent?”

                “Just a few days ago,” Levi inputs. Eren tightens his hold on Levi’s knee, kissing him with his fingers.

                “Mm. I see. When he says those things, Eren, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?” Ymir looks actually engrossed, mindlessly poking her pen against her cheek as she talks and listens.

                Eren feels Levi slip another hand under his, so that he’s encompassing Eren’s entire frail hand in his. He’s warm, impossibly so, but Eren doesn’t really mind. He might not be able to squeeze Levi’s knee anymore, but he certainly can squeeze his hand, and that’s all that matters. That he can touch him.

                Eren might have been mad at Levi, for going through his room without permission and then not telling him exactly what he might have found, but this moment right now makes up for any and all mistakes Levi’s ever made towards him. Just the fact that he’s here, sitting through this, no complaints nor in any hurry to finish. He’s listening intently, his motions trained on keeping Eren’s nerves at bay as much as is possible in a therapist’s office. If Ymir weren’t here, Eren wouldn’t doubt that Levi would be all over him, peppering him with the kisses he so desires. And if Levi weren’t the one to initiate it, all Eren would have to do is ask, and Levi would gladly press his lips to every inch of Eren’s skin.

                Eren believes it. He can’t wait to leave, now not only because he doesn’t want to talk about his emotions, but also because he’s ready to be back in bed with Levi, arms around his waist as he looks up at the unusually short man and pecks his chin. When he’d looked at Levi up close earlier, when Levi had him thrown in a chair in his living room, he’d subconsciously noticed that Levi apparently hadn’t shaved in several days. It didn’t register until now – it’s only noticeable once really close up. But Eren would love to be close enough to see it again. Levi’s already _very_ handsome. The facial hair makes it hard for Eren not to swoon when he’s close enough to breathe on him. Maybe Levi will grow it out. Or maybe he’ll notice in time and decide to shave it off.

                Either way, Eren loves him. It’s frightening, to think that Eren’s _so_ in love that it doesn’t even _matter_ what Levi does or how he looks or what little mistakes he makes. Levi’s Levi and Eren’s Eren and Eren loves Levi and Levi loves Eren. It’s just a little unnerving, how detached Levi seems now – but Eren can’t blame him. He has to sit here, listening to the one he loves talk of killing himself, talk of all the things that have brought him closest to the edge. Eren doesn’t doubt that Levi’s hurting just as much as Eren’s hurting – Levi’s made it _very_ clear that he loves Eren. 

                Of course, that’s not to say that Eren doesn’t have his limits. There are certain things he won’t stand for. But he doesn’t think that Levi will cross any of those lines. He might cross certain lines, lines like _invading his privacy,_ but ultimately, Eren can forgive that. Because Levi has good intentions. He might go about it the wrong way, but at least he means well.

                “Suicide,” Eren states outright, in reference to Ymir’s question. “I immediately think about how much I hate myself and want to die.”

                “Really?” Ymir looks down, admiring her nails, “You want to kill yourself. Because of what _one person_ thinks of you.”

                Eren nods, slowly. It’s more of a statement than a question, but it provokes thought.

                “Why? Why would you want to kill _yourself?”_

Eren pauses, stilling his head. Why _does_ he want to kill himself? When Jean first started insulting him, Eren was fully capable of tearing his limbs off. He had the strength. He had the willpower. Looking back on it, he’s not even too sure why he _didn’t_ throw darts at Jean’s head.

                Perhaps there’s always been a part of him that hates seeing others in pain. Even if said other person is, as Levi would so colloquially put it, ‘an asshole.’

                “I don’t- I mean, it’s just, it hurts,” Eren tries, failing to put his emotions into appropriate words.

                “I know it does,” Ymir says, “But shouldn’t you want to kill _him_? It’s his problem if he doesn’t like you. Because, clearly, there are _certain_ other people who have taken a liking to you.” Ymir sends a look to Levi, her expression caught between a smirk and neutrality.

                “This was before I met Levi, though,” Eren corrects.

                “Oh? So, before him, who’d you have? Maybe a friend? Maybe a sister or brother? Or _maybe_ -“ Ymir gives Levi a shit-eating grin, “A _different_ boyfriend? If I’m right to assume that you two are dating.”

                “We are,” Levi states, “Not that it’s any of your business. We’re here for you to help Eren, not to try and-“

                “I had a few other friends,” Eren interrupts, getting tired of the feud between Ymir and Levi. “I mean, they’re s _till_ my friends, but, I guess, not as much anymore.”

                “Please tell me that the reason you say ‘not as much anymore’ has _nothing_ to do with the fact that you have Shorty here now. Trust me, Eren, it’s not worth it to throw your friends away because of one person.”

                Levi doesn’t say anything, but Eren can feel the daggers being shot at Ymir. Ymir aims her own eyes right back at him, but Eren actually agrees with her argument. He shouldn’t forget about his friends just because he’s with Levi. If anything, it should bring them closer together – Mikasa, especially, she’s always been a bit clingy to Eren, even more so than Levi is. He’s certain that the next time he sees her, she’s going to be all over him, wanting to get to know Levi and, hopefully, if Eren’s lucky, she won’t murder him.

                It’s almost strange. Levi and Mikasa are so _similar._ They both love Eren so unconditionally, and they both have same homicidal looks in their eyes. Eren wouldn’t be surprised if he invited Mikasa over to Levi’s house just to find that she’d go through Levi’s items in much the same way Levi went through Eren’s stuff.

                “It’s not,” Eren shoots down, “It’s just, they go to school, so I don’t get to talk to them as much anymore.”

                “Ah,” Ymir nods, “Glad to see you have a brain. But anywho. Time’s almost up. So I’ll ask one more question. What are you eating for dinner tonight?”

                Eren allows bewilderment to paint his features. It’s such an out-of-place question, it doesn’t fit, especially after Ymir had just made it a point to tell him not to put Levi on such a pedestal and to not kill himself over one guy. It’s a sharp change in direction, whereas the conversation had previously been depressing, this is a more hopeful question. It stings a little, because Eren knows that with whatever he says, he makes a silent vow that he’s going to eat. But it’s a lot better than their previous topic of suicide.

                “I don’t know,” Eren shrugs, trying to seem more relaxed than he really is.

                “Maybe you know, Shorty? Are you the girlfriend of the relationship?” she teases.

                “I don’t know how you might’ve gotten _that_ idea. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re both _male_ ,” Levi responds.

                “You look a bit feminine. Despite the ugly face you’re giving me.”

                “And just how do I look feminine? Vouz avez plein de merde.”

                “I have no idea what you just said, Short-stuff, but it doesn’t sound like it was very nice.”

                “It wasn’t.”

                Eren clears his throat abruptly, wanting the attention back on topic. Ymir shifts her eyes back to Eren, while Levi slumps back in his seat, though Eren can tell that he’s still paying attention. Their hands stay connected between them, neither one seeming to want to let go. “Dinner,” he reminds them, however grudgingly.

                Eren’s conflicted, his emotions a mix of wanting so badly to eat and wanting so badly to _not_ eat. It’s horrible, because he can’t decide what to do anymore, whether he should eat, whether he shouldn’t eat, and no matter which option he picks, it floods his mind for hours and hours afterwards. Even as he lay in bed with Levi last night, the thoughts of his breakfast came to the forefront of his mind whenever Levi’s kissing died down. He’d woken up in the early hours of the morning, and once it became _too much_ to keep thinking about – the sugary bits of cereal, the damn selfie he never showed to Levi, the horrible feeling of the food as it slid down his throat – he’d decided to call up Jean. He needed a way to mend his relationship with the guy, anyways, a way that wouldn’t have Levi up his ass the entire time with comments about how he ‘shouldn’t be around that guy.’ Eren appreciates the effort, but he can’t just _leave_ Jean. He fears, now, though, that Jean wants nothing to do with him anymore, after Levi had nailed him in the head with a napkin dispenser.

                “Dinner,” Levi repeats, “I guess I’ll cook this time. _Not because I’m the girlfriend,_ ” he adds bitterly, “But because Eren cooked last time.”

                “So what’ll it be, then, Shortstacks?” Ymir asks, slowly standing up.

                “I’ll just keep it simple,” Levi says, ignoring Ymir’s nickname, “Maybe I’ll make him a sandwich. Any kind he wants. Sound good, Eren? _Eren?_ ”

                Eren looks over at him, nodding his head gradually. He’s not really focusing on him, though.

                Ymir’s been calling Levi names.

                But it doesn’t faze Levi. At all.

                Levi’s strong, to be able to stand up against Ymir. Ymir keeps calling him short, even though Levi’s made it _very_ clear that he doesn’t like it. But at the same time, Levi shrugs it off like it’s nothing. He doesn’t let Ymir’s teasing get to him. He might glare at her, but that's all that he does about the situation.

                Why can’t Eren be more like Levi?

                It’s like Ymir planned this. It’s like she _wanted_ Eren to catch onto her example, to see the way he _should_ handle being called horrible names. To shrug it off like it’s nothing, to instead retaliate with his _own_ smartass comment. She somehow knew that he needed that extra boost, and it was a long-shot to assume that he’d catch on, but he _did._

                Ymir’s not a bad therapist. Eren’s almost pleased that Levi brought him here today. _Almost_.

                                                                                                ~|~

                “Hanji, get out.”

                Hanji stands up, from where she’d previously been sulking in Levi’s living room. She straightens her back, her appearance immediately changing from boredom to absolute joy at the sight of Levi and Eren coming home.

                “But I’ve been waiting for you for two hours,” she says, “You just left, you didn’t even leave me a note or anything. And I made you _breakfast_!”

                “It’s past breakfast hour,” Levi stands in front of her, looking up. Eren stands a few steps back, looking as adorable as ever with his cheeks flushed and hair awry.

                “So? It was past breakfast hour when you told me to cook for you, too, but I still made it.”

                “It’s my house, Hanji. Get out,” Levi tries.

                “Why?”

                “I’ll explain later.”

                “Promise?”

                “I promise.”

                “I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

                “As if _you_ could hurt me.”

                “Oh? You wanna try me?”

                “Just leave, Hanji,” Levi says, growing impatient.

                Hanji looks disappointed, but she drags herself away towards the front door, mentioning that she left their breakfast in the dining room. Levi feels a bit of regret, she looks so _upset,_ but he knows that the second she’s back outside, she’ll be her usual cheery self again. He'll have to make it up to her later.

                Levi waits until he hears the front door close before turning around and facing Eren. Looking up at him, Eren looks the same as he always has – beautiful. And sad.

                “Eren?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Are you hungry?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Do you want to eat?”

                “No.”

                Levi nods. He can’t be mad at Eren. Eren’s being _honest_ with him. And as much as he’d like to force Eren to devour whatever shit Hanji’s prepared, he can’t bring himself to do so when Eren has such bags under his eyes, when his eyes have changed from their usual gorgeous shade of sea foam green to a duller, hunter green.

                “What do you want to do, then?” Levi asks, inching closer to Eren.

                “Can we go upstairs?” Eren suggests, his voice low and gaze averted.

                “Of course. Tu es l'amour de ma vie.”

                “I still have no idea what you’re saying,” Eren says as Levi leads him up a nearby flight of stairs.

                Levi takes Eren down a hallway and into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him. “You are the love of my life,” he translates.

                Levi doesn’t get to see how Eren reacts to that, however, as Eren moves away and busies himself with trying to sort through the blankets of their bed. He crawls up it until he’s at the head, long legs spread about like a spider. Levi follows him, taking the easier path by walking up to the side of the bed and simply situating himself beside Eren. He lets Eren steal all of the covers, but only because he’s willing to do anything to see Eren smile at him again the way he usually does.

                Eren pulls himself up, throwing his arms around Levi’s shoulders and jerking him down so that he’s practically lying on top of Eren. Levi wraps one arm around Eren’s waist, the other one going to stroke his cheek.

                Eren moves his arms back, going to cup his fingers around Levi’s face and kiss his jaw. It tickles, the way that Eren lightly brushes his lips against his and how his fingers dance over his chin and run under his ears. Levi tries to kiss him back, but it’s hard to when Eren’s face keeps moving from one place to another in search of a different part of Levi to coat with his love.

                “So you’re not mad at me?” Levi asks as Eren presses his lips to his forehead.

                “What? For taking me to a therapist?” Eren pauses for a second, before resuming his smooching. This time, he pecks Levi just beside the nose. “I don’t know.”

                “So are you just going to kiss me until you decide?”        

                “Mhm.” Eren moves away from his face to start down his neck.

                Levi lets him, running his hands over Eren’s body and giving him his own kisses, ones with only skin. Eren moves with him, head leaning against Levi’s hand and hips pressing to Levi’s palm.

                “Levi?” Eren asks abruptly, sitting back and suddenly ending his parade down Levi’s throat.

                “Yes?”

                “Teach me how to say something. In French.”

                “What do you want to learn?”

                “Anything,” Eren says, “Something sweet.”

                “Okay, let’s see,” Levi thinks for a second, “Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.”

                “That one’s long and hard. Give me something _easy._ ”

                “Brat. Repeat after me. Je suis beau.”

                “Say it slower.”

                “Je,” Levi waits. Eren repeats him, sounding a little uneasy.

                “Suis,” Levi continues, waiting for Eren to, once again, repeat him. The result is much the same – Eren says it fairly accurately, but with hesitation and uncertainty on his face. Levi tries to comfort him by removing himself from on top of him and instead setting himself down so that he’s lying _next_ to Eren instead.

                “Beau,” Levi finishes, and this time Eren says it with just a bit more confidence.

                “All together now,” Levi says, “Je suis beau.”

                “Je suis beau,” Eren echoes. He says it once more, repeating it with conviction and a tiny smile on his lips. “So what did I just say?”

                “You just called yourself beautiful.”

                “I- What?  I did what?” Eren’s eyes search Levi’s, his smile slowly dying and his fingers going to curl around Levi’s neck. One hand plays with the collar of his shirt, while the other one plays with the skin just below Levi’s ear.

                “You called yourself beautiful.”

                Eren doesn’t say anything. Levi can’t tell if he appreciates what Levi’s just done or if he loathes it, but either way, Eren remains seated beside him. His breaths even out, and he pushes himself up to kiss Levi once again, this time on the lips. Levi lets him, allowing Eren to dominate the kiss, deciding which way their mouths move and how much pressure to apply.

                It’s weird, how despite Eren trying _so_ hard to convince himself and to convince Levi that he’s anything but attractive, he doesn’t fight it now. He’s just letting it be, but Levi won’t be upset if he finds later on that Eren’s erased the phrase he’s just learned completely from his memory. Even if Eren never finds it in himself to say that he’s beautiful – which he undoubtedly is – as long as Eren’s _happy,_ then everything’s fine.

                Though Levi vows to make sure that Eren finds himself attractive one day, whether it be today or tomorrow or next year or sixty years down the road. One day, Eren _will_ think of himself as beautiful. Willingly.

                Eren halts, just as Levi’s about to move his hand up to Eren’s hair. He pulls away, twisting around and digging in his back pocket. He pulls out his phone.

                Levi waits a moment as Eren looks over the screen. “What is it?”

                “It’s nothing,” Eren sighs, but he still unlocks it and starts typing.

                “Don’t lie to me, Eren,” Levi mutters, placing a palm over Eren’s stomach. It’s sickening, how thin he is – it’s _ugly._ It’s repulsive. It’s hideous, how there’s hardly an inch separating Levi’s hand from the mattress, there being hardly an inch of Eren’s stomach to hold Levi’s hand up. It's the side-effects of his eating disorder coming into play on his body, and there's  _nothing_ beautiful about that.

                But somehow, Eren’s still so incredibly gorgeous. There’s no way to describe it. He just _is._ Even though he has dark lines below his eyes. Even though his collarbones are bruised with the pain of not eating.

                “I’m sorry,” Eren responds, his voice quiet. He shuts his phone off, though, and turns over so that he’s cuddling against Levi’s neck. “I love you. I love you so much.”

                “I love you, too, Eren.”

                The two of them stay like that, curling up against each other and, occasionally, decorating their other half with little kisses. Eren ends up falling asleep after several minutes, his head buried against the top of Levi’s chest. Levi makes sure to get Eren as comfortable as possible, by lifting the blankets up to his chin and wrapping his arms around his lover's waist.                

                Eren breathes contently, a steady rhythm of in and out, inhale and exhale against Levi's collarbones. Levi runs one hand through Eren's hair, reluctant to remove his arm from Eren's hips but ultimately decided that it's worth it, if he can touch Eren's soft brown locks.

                It's here, as Levi curls his fingers around the ends of Eren's hair and as he presses their chests tighter together, Levi finally makes a big decision.

                The cuddling, the legs wrapped around his body, the fingers on his abdomen, the steady breathing against his neck. He never wants to be without that sort of pleasure ever again.

                The sight of Eren in the mornings, the arms around him and the voice begging him not to leave. Levi can’t go another day without that.

                Even the struggling, the pain of watching Eren cry and stumble over his words, it’s worth it if he can still wind up here, in this position, at the end of the day - a content Eren snuggling up against him, his face so close to Levi’s that Levi can see every single contour of his jaw.

                Levi’s going to marry Eren.

                It doesn’t matter, whether it’s an extravagant wedding of him and Eren surrounded by a million gifts, the sound of glasses clinking in the distance, or whether it’s just him and Eren standing next to a dwindling fireplace while Hanji reads their wedding vows.

                Levi’s going to do whatever it takes to claim Eren as his forever, to pledge an oath of life and death and in sickness and in health. He’s going to tie himself to Eren in a way that nobody else can, a knot that reassures him that, no matter what happens between them, Levi will still have Eren’s warm, ocean-scented embrace to look forward to.

                Levi’s hand leaves Eren’s hair and hunts out his fingers - he picks up one of Eren’s palms, unhooking it from where it was clasped to Levi’s collar. He holds up Eren’s hand, admiring and feeling around his fingers. They’re thin, bony, and an unnatural gray tinged with blue.              

                Levi, however _very_ reluctantly, stands up and hunts through his room, finding a tape measure in his closet, perched perfectly on a small shelf. He grabs it and moves back towards Eren slowly, careful to make no noise. He winces when he settles himself back down next to Eren, the bed creaking as he places himself so that Eren’s face is by his thigh.

                He brings Eren’s hand back up, interlocking their fingers very briefly. He then uses his free hand, uncoiling the tape measure and wrapping it around the core of Eren’s ring finger. He couldn’t be more thankful that Eren’s, apparently, a heavy sleeper.

                Levi double checks the size, before jotting it down in his memory. He’ll have to add an inch or two, just in case Eren’s gradually increasing intake of food causes weight gain in his hands. Even if he does grow too big for the ring, however, Levi would gladly buy Eren a _million_ differently sized rings to appease his lover.

                Eren shifts, and in a panic, Levi’s quick to throw the tape measure behind him in such a way that Eren would only see it if he sat up. Or, really, if he dared move forward an inch - it sticks out, having been tossed carelessly aside in Levi’s otherwise _very_ clean room.

                “Levi?” Eren groans, his hand moving away to rub his eyes.

                “Yes, my love?”

                “How long have I been asleep?”

                “Maybe ten or twenty minutes.”

                “Oh.” And just like that, Eren’s limbs fall limp and he’s snoring again in less than thirty seconds.

                Levi leans down, kissing Eren’s forehead. He’s beautiful, in the ugliest way possible - the eating disorder has destroyed any true purity left in him, and Levi wishes there was some way he could reverse the issue and make it so that Eren’s never had to suffer like this. If he could make it so that his lover never reached this miserable point in his life, Levi might just become the happiest person alive, despite his incredibly bitchy facial expression.

                How could anybody have let Eren feel _bad_ about himself? How could they have seen him and let him walk away without so much as a word to him? Eren’s never truly looked like he was living life to its fullest extent, he’s never looked like he was _fine._ Anybody hanging around him for more than five seconds could see that - hell, Levi figured it out within mere days.

                Their therapy session had gone fairly well. Eren _did_ come home slightly depressed, but that’s to be expected. It’s their first time going. They don’t go back for another week.

                Levi can only hope that Ymir’s words are helping him, though. He can only hope that Eren’s healing, that his constant stream of wanting to die has, or is working towards, coming to an end. Levi would love to see nice, plump, _healthy_ fingers accept his hand in marriage, and though he’ll still love Eren even if said fingers are the way they are now - gaunt, dry, and pale - Levi can still dream of a day where he’ll have his palms pressed against soft, irresistibly smooth hips and a stomach that doesn’t reveal every rib of Eren’s body.

                Levi faintly hears the doorbell, but it doesn’t immediately register to him that he’s hearing it - he _may_ or may not be too busy imagining that said ringing is the melody of church bells as he traces the outline of Eren’s jaw with his thumbs. He ghosts kisses down the exposed skin of Eren’s neck, making absolutely sure to leave no part untouched. It’s only when the doorbell ringing becomes more rapid and urgent does Levi stand up, toss the measuring tape under the bed - to be neatly stored away later - and rush downstairs.

                He straightens his shirt, putting on his best ‘not-taking-any-shit’ face. He turns the knob, and the first thing that comes to mind is cold-blooded _murder._ Which might not be saying much, considering Levi thinks the same thing when the mailman comes up to the door every so often.

                In front of him stands a tall blond with a face like that of a crusty horse dick, and behind him is a slightly taller, freckled guy whose entire existence just appears to be unimportant and, in fact, rather annoying - at least, in comparison to the asshole in front of him with the shit-eating expression on his face.

                The only sort of consolation for Levi is the fact that Horsefuck has a disgusting black eye teeming with tears and, beside it, a bright red eye twitching with pain. Horsie deserves that and more, for what he’s done to Levi’s gorgeous little honey badger.

                “What are you doing here?” Levi asks, bluntly.

                “I’m here for Ere-”

                Levi narrows his eyes and attempts to slam the door on the guy’s face, but he’s stopped by a hand pushing the door back open - it belongs to Freckles, and if Levi had a knife, he’d split the bastard’s hand in half. Anybody who associates themselves with a person like _this_ horse fucker is no better than the horse fucker himself.

                It doesn’t help that Horsefuck - Levi doesn't want to even  _think_ about this guy's _real_ name - is all dressed up in a nice shirt and is holding a present, a thin rectangle covered in blue wrap and a green bow.

                “I’m _here,_ ” Horsie growls, “For _Eren._ ”

                “No,” Levi states.

                “Why?”

                “Because I said so.”

                “I swear to-”

                “Get the fuck away from my house. Avale mes couilles grosse pute-”

                “Guys,” Freckles tries to insert, “Please-”

                “You, too,” Levi barks, “Get away from my doudou, don’t you think you’ve done _enough_ damage-”

                “Listen, dickbag, you don’t control him, I can’t even understand half the shit your say-”

                “ _Jean?_ ”

                The three of them - Levi, Horsie, and Freckles - all pause. Levi turns his head around and, behind him, stands his always stunning Paper Thin Beauty, his golden skin radiating like the sun and his green eyes reminiscent of lush spring trees freshly bloomed.

                “I’m sorry,” Eren says, eyeing the guy named Jean - Levi had tried his hardest to erase that forsaken name from his memory, but in all truthfulness, Levi never _really_ forgot the guys name. “What’s going on here?”

                Levi feels his heart skip a beat, regret flooding through his veins. His lover, he looks so _ravishing,_ a thin blanket draped over his shoulders that Levi recognizes as the cover from his - _their -_ bed. His pants hang low on his hips, and Levi has half a mind to pull Eren as far away from this shit-eating bastard - as he should, Jean’s done nothing but harm towards Eren - and take him right back upstairs to resume their cuddling. And, of course, _maybe_ a few more explicit activities that won’t be mentioned here.

                “Your asshole of a boyfriend is trying to get rid of me,” Jean states, his eyebrows knitting together. He glances back at Freckles before correcting himself and saying, “Of _us._ ”

                “ _Levi,_ ” Eren groans, his voice low as he glares at Levi. Levi doesn’t feel bad because he tried to drive Jean and Freckles away, however. He feels bad because he’s managed to hurt Eren, even if just slightly.

                Jean now addresses Eren as he asks, “Can we come in?”

                “You may,” Eren allows, stepping aside to let the pair through. He sets a hand on Levi’s shoulder for a short moment, reassuring him that he’s not mad.

                “Why does it smell like bleach in here?” Jean mutters, crowding into the house.

                “I thought that was just Windex,” Freckles comments.

                Levi _really_ doesn’t like these guys.

                “Follow me,” Eren motions, moving over to stand in front of Jean and Freckles, the blanket around his shoulders falling towards his elbows, “Levi, can you get us some snacks?”

                “I suppose,” Levi murmurs, “Any specific requests?”

                “I could really go for some chocolate,” Shitty Freckles chimes, scratching behind his ear nervously.

                “I wasn’t talking to you.”

                “Oh.” Freckles turns red.

                Levi turns to head into his kitchen, feeling a sort of pride build in him at the small smirk and wink he receives from Eren. It tells him that, not only does _Eren_ feel a bit of joy in pain being inflicted on the two bastards, but he _also_ doesn’t blame Levi for wanting to shove a gallon of Clorox down their throats - _especially_ Jean’s.

                And, while Levi’s not too keen on leaving Eren alone with the two, Levi knows that Eren needs some space. He can’t be around Levi all day every day through every little thing he does - that would be too much, and Levi really doesn’t want Eren to write him off as clingy. Levi wants a _healthy_ relationship. And a _healthy_ lover.

                So Levi leaves the trio to their business, pushing his way into the kitchen and starting the painfully slow process of that which is baking cookies.

                He makes sure not to add any chocolate.

                                                                                                ~|~

                Eren settles himself into a singular chair, the same one that he’d been in before Levi dragged him away to Hell - ahem, _therapy._ He places his hands in his lap, watching as Jean and Marco sit down on the couch next to him, Marco nearly in Jean’s lap, what with the way that one leg’s glued to Jean’s side and one arm’s practically sewed onto Jean’s shoulder.

                Jean fumbles with something in his hands, twisting it around in his fingers and covering it with his palms. Eren can faintly make out the fact that it’s a light blue, with a frilly green bow placed lazily over the top. He can’t, however, make out much more than that, since Jean keeps fiddling with it and tossing it around in his hands.

                “So what happened to your face?” Eren teases, attempting to lighten the mood with a smile, “You look like a hybrid between a horse and a raccoon.”

                “Your stupid boy-”

                “Just give him the present,” Marco groans, snatching the object away from Jean’s grip and politely handing it to Eren with a cheesy, forced grin.

                Eren accepts it, taking it into his grasp and briefly admiring the handiwork - Marco must’ve wrapped it, judging by the smooth edges and durability. Jean, however, likely put the bow on - it’s obvious in the way that it’s sloppily tied but still strong. The paper crinkles in Eren’s hands, though he’s careful not to tear it just yet.

                “Open it,” Marco insists after a moment, grabbing onto Jean’s shoulders like he might just have a heart attack if Eren doesn’t unwrap the gift _right now._

                Eren bites onto his lower lip, but proceeds to rip into the gift, and he’s only two tears in by the time he pauses, his eyes going wide and his fingers frozen.

                “A- A cookbook?” Eren looks down at the present, uncertain. The cover has a picture of a delicious, mouthwatering, _obviously fake_ sandwich, piled up into nearly five distinct layers of mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, meat - pretty much any food item that could possibly belong between a few slices of bread. The rest of the cover is a plain white, with the exception of the title, written in large, square, black letters.

                “Uh-huh,” Jean nods. He wrings his now-empty hands together nervously.

                “Um, thanks,” Eren says, looking back up into Jean’s eyes with a sort of passion. Eren could _never_ hate Jean, even if the guy tied a rope to his neck and tried to choke him.

                Eren takes a quick minute to skim through the pages - it’s a really beautiful book, with how it’s laid out and how the colors are set about. Even the food, which Eren had tried so hard to train himself to loathe and believe was _gross, repulsive, fattening, unhealthy -_ this little booklet manages to make everything look incredibly appealing and just all around _perfect._ Even the pickles.

                Eren’s almost tempted to eat the book itself.

                “I love it,” Eren states, closing the book and looking back up at Jean and Marco. “But why?”

                “It- It was on sale,” Jean says, “And, you know, I thought, why not, since you, uh, _did_ promise to start eating again. You know.”

                “Is this why you texted me and asked to come over? To give me this?”

                “Mhm,” Jean nods. “Kinda was expecting _you_ to answer the door, though. Not, uh, _that_ guy,” he makes a subtle indication towards the direction Levi had been.

                Before Eren had fallen asleep by Levi, he’d received a message from Jean asking for the address to Levi’s abode so that he could visit. Eren went ahead and sent it, because one, he wanted to know just _why_ Jean insisted on coming over, and two, Eren’s not really one for straight up denying someone when they ask so kindly. And the text message from Jean had been about as kind as someone like him could get.

                “That ‘ _guy’_ is Levi,” Eren rolls his eyes, “But I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

                “It’s fine.”

                There’s a moment of absolute silence - with the exception of the ringing of a million dishes suddenly hitting the ground down the hallway, and Eren’s caught between feeling amused and feeling regretful over the fact that Levi’s apparently found the cabinet that Eren had been too lazy to organize when he was cooking the other day. He hides the smile that forms across his lips with a palm to his mouth.

                “I’m sorry, Eren,” Jean murmurs, using the loud noise as encouragement. His eyes are averted, shaded with _possibly_ true regret and hurt - though that _could_ just be an effect of having a black eye. “I know, there isn’t really anything I can do to make it up to you, but please. _Please_ tell me you’re going to be okay-”

                “I am.”

                “-And don’t lie to me, you motherfucker.”

                “I’ll be fine, Jean,” Eren says. And it’s not a lie - if things keep going the way they are, Eren _will_ be okay after a few months, he has no doubt. Mentally, he might never be the same - Eren fears that he will _always_ have a reluctance towards eating, an urge to end his life when things go awry - but at the very least, he has Levi to comfort him. And Mikasa, too, and Armin, and Jean, and Marco, and, hell, he has Ymir and Krista, too. And, in fact, he has _himself_ to believe in, as well - Ymir's helped Eren to understand that it was _he_ who’s made things out to be a million times worse than they truly are. And all the same, he has the power to ignore the troubles of life and just overall not give a shit what anyone thinks.

                Eren loves his friends, he does. No matter what they say or do, he’ll _always_ love them. And he doesn’t question, for even a second, whether or not they’ll love him back. Or, at least, to an _extent_ , he won't question it.

                But Eren can’t rely on them for everything. He has to learn how to trust himself and put what he wants ultimately above what the others demand. And that’s why Eren’s going to continue to visit Ymir, though with hesitation and a pain in his chest – he needs to learn to love himself before he can just allow the ones he _already_ loves to have such control over his life. He can’t allow everyone _else_ to have the power to make or to break him. And, no matter what it takes, Eren’s going to become tough. For _himself._

                Eren can do it, too. He _can._ He’ll have Levi to support him, of course, but even if Levi decided to leave him right now, at this very moment, Eren could still move forward. He’s tied to Ymir now. And Ymir’s going to help him through everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I've mentioned, I'm working on wrapping this up, so if you have any suggestions or requests before I try to end this (which means maybe two or three more chapters left?), leave it in the comments and I'll see what I can do. <3


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy is hard. Planning for a wedding is hard, too.

                “What, no girlfriend today?” Ymir asks, eyeing the empty seat next to Eren.

                “Uh, no,” Eren replies, having resigned to Ymir’s delicate teasing. She seems incredibly set on directing all of her mockery towards Levi, and though Levi isn’t even here today, Eren has a feeling that Ymir’s going to find every opening possible to sneak a joke or two in about Levi. And Eren doesn’t particularly mind it – he’d even say that it’s funny, because he knows that Ymir doesn’t _really_ mean the things that she says. And he knows that if he told her to stop, she would, however perhaps reluctantly – she’s intelligent, but sympathetic.

                “That’s a shame. I liked him. What happened to him, did he get mistaken for a fifth grader?” Ymir snorts, a smirk playing at her features.

                “Uh. Actually, he was mistaken for one of Santa’s elves,” Eren says with a hint of uncertainty, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms and ankles. He tries to sink in as far as he can, as if by hiding in his seat, he’ll disappear from this place altogether.

                “Oho! Your sense of humor. I love it,” Ymir smiles, “But, ah, let’s get down to business. I noticed a few of your answers have changed.” She motions towards the clipboard in her hands.

                And it’s true – once Eren walked in, Ymir handed him the exact same questionnaire as last time and told him to fill it out once more. Eren filled it out much the same as last time, with a few exceptions. One being, Eren’s felt a little less depressed over the past week – it was a relatively easy week to get through. Once Jean and Marco had left after giving Eren their, uh, _gift,_ Eren didn’t see them much at all. Levi had also apparently made it his goal to take Eren out to as many places as possible over the weekend. They’d gone to an aquarium, they’d gone to look at puppies, hell, Levi even took him out just for plain walks with no particular destination in mind. Eren, of course, hadn’t minded – he loved it, in fact. It made it hurt a million times more when Levi had to leave for work the Monday after the weekend ended, but it was made up for as soon as Levi would return at the closing of the day. Eren almost feels a little guilty, having not returned the love that Levi gives with such intensity. But there’s only so much that a broke, jobless, suicidal nineteen year old can do. And Eren hates that, so, _so_ much.

                Another difference that Eren had noted in his questionnaire was how much Eren’s eaten. He’d been kind enough to raise the number to a perky little ‘four’ – which might not be saying much, but on the bright side, Eren’s managed to bring himself to eat at least one thing each day. Even if it’s something as small as a cookie, it’s still _something._ And he doesn’t even do it just because it makes Levi happy – he, too, feels a little pride in being able to eat a little. Though, if he eats too much, he vomits it back up, so he’s learned to be a little cautious with eating meals.

                “Yeah,” Eren nods, confirming that a few of his answers _have_ changed. He’s wearing Levi’s jacket, which provides a sort of comfort – it smells so gorgeous, he can’t help but think of Levi and his hands and his hair and his tough arms and his muscular chest and _Eren would kill to be next to him right now._

                Except, no. Eren can do this. Alone. He’s capable of it. That’s why he’d told Levi that he wanted to try to make it through an appointment without him – and Levi understood. Of course he did. In fact, he almost seemed a little _eager_ to get Eren out the door, but Eren tried not to think too much of it. Still tries not to think too much of it, in fact.

                “So, Eren. Mind telling me what happened since our last little meeting?” Ymir suggests, her eyebrows perked up.

                “Uh, like what?”

                “Oh, I don’t care. Let’s start off a little happy. Best thing that happened since last, what was it, Thursday?”

                Eren pauses, swallowing his nerves. He shouldn’t be anxious. Ymir is reliable. Ymir is a good person. Ymir is funny, she’s _different,_ but funny.

                “Ah, um, Levi took me to see some puppies,” Eren tries. Really, he can’t pick a single favorite memory – everything he’d done with Levi had made him impossibly giddy. Their little touches, Levi’s horrible jokes and his attempts to teach Eren a little French, the way Levi would always look at Eren like he was the single most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Levi looks at Eren differently than he looks at everyone else – it’d be impossible not to notice. It’s like Levi’s mood goes up tenfold at just the sight of Eren’s ugly, broken self.

                “Oh? What kind of puppies?” Ymir asks.

                “I think they were golden retrievers.”

                “Those are cute. Does Shorty like dogs?”

                “I think so. He looked happy.”

                “Did you buy one? A puppy, I mean,” Ymir places her cheek in her hand.

                “No,” Eren shakes his head, “Though Levi offered.”

                “I think a puppy would be good for you. Or any pet, really,” Ymir shrugs. “Don’t get a cat, though. But let’s move on from, er, what’s his name? Levi? _Right_. Let’s talk about your other friends.”

                “Well, Jean-“

                “Who?”

                “My roommate. The one who calls me names.”

                “ _Ew_ ,” Ymir cringes, “I’m sorry, go on.”

                “ _My roommate_ came and visited me last week. He, uh, bought me a present,” Eren looks not at Ymir, but at the cheesy posters on the wall. They burn into his memory, a weak grasp at a distraction from Ymir’s eyes.

                “A present?”

                “Yeah. A book.”

                “You like reading?”

                “No.”

                Ymir smiles at that, amused. “You’re cute, Eren. Tell me about your little meeting with Jean.”

                Eren’s face falls, and he looks back down at Ymir. He runs a hand down his thighs, nervous – he’s had conflicted feelings about their meeting, and though he’d tried to convince himself that Jean cares, he’s not too sure anymore. Marco, too. Eren loves them, but sometimes – a _lot_ of the time – it just feels like they only started caring once they found out he wanted to die.

                Ymir, after a moment of absolute silence, shifts in her seat and says, “You know what, Eren? Tell me how you _feel_ about Jean, as stupid as that sounds. Do you like him?”

                “Uh. I mean, of course. He’s just, he’s just, ah, it feels like he doesn’t actually, you know, _care_. Sometimes. He’s not a bad person, though,” Eren shrugs, eyes moving down to watch the floor now.

                “Not a bad person? Exactly what _is_ a bad person, then?”

                Eren blinks. “What do you mean?”

                “What’s a bad person? What makes someone good versus what makes someone bad? Because, by _my_ definition, from what I’ve heard, I’d say Jean’s by no means a _good_ person.”

                Eren glances back up at her, furrowing his eyebrows. She has a point – Eren’s thought, over and over, that _Jean loves him, Jean’s not a bad guy, Jean’s just a little insensitive, that’s all._

But _is_ that all?

                “Listen, Eren, I know it’s hard, but honestly,” Ymir says, sighing, “I think you should let go of the guy. Separate yourself from him. Find some new friends to take his place.”

                “Why?”

                “Because Jean’s, as your bitter little boyfriend had put it, _an asshole._ Isn’t he?”

                Eren bites his lower lip. “Kind of.”

                “Can I see your phone? Assuming you have nothing to hide, of course. Hopefully there aren’t any dick pics from your angry little boyfriend on there?” Ymir holds out a hand, waiting.

                Eren lets out a halfhearted laugh, and digs his phone out. He checks it, _just in case_ – Levi doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy who’d send _those kinds_ of pictures, and really, he doesn’t even _have_ a cell phone _for fuck’s sake,_ but if Hanji had somehow managed to convince Levi to buy a phone, Eren’s not too sure what he should expect. Maybe Levi _would_ be the guy who’d send an assload of penis pictures, who knows?

                “Even if there were, you wouldn’t be able to see his dick, he’s so small,” Eren jokes, handing Ymir his phone. Ymir bursts out laughing, having to cover her mouth from the upsurge.

                “You’re absolutely amazing. Now, ah, how do you work this thing? See, this is why I’m an a- Oh! There it is.”

                Eren waits, his half-smile dying down as he watches Ymir struggle with the technology. It’s actually really humorous, the way that she hesitantly taps the screen as if she were diffusing a bomb, the brief moments of anger as the phone refuses to do exactly what she’s thinking it should do.

                “One, two, three, and viola, Jean is no more,” Ymir hands Eren’s phone back with a triumphant grin.

                Eren looks down, and sure enough, Jean’s contact is missing from his list.

                “Now, Eren,” Ymir says, “What I want you to do is, move out. You said he’s your roommate, right? Too bad. Ask Shorty if he’s got a space for you to move into. And if he says no, come see me, I’m sure Krista won’t mind.”

                Eren nods, his phone still being held onto lightly by his fingers. Eren feels a mixture of disbelief and utter joy – to never have to deal with Jean’s bullshit again? It hurts, to think, but Eren actually feels a little _happy_ at that thought. It makes him feel like a cunt, but to never have to worry about Jean or even _Marco_ ever, _ever_ again, well, Eren’s heart pounds against his chest with a feeling _other_ than anxiety.

                “Next, once you’re all situated at your new home, we can talk about getting you some _new_ friends. I know what you’re trying to do, by continuing to talk to Jean – you’re trying to give him another shot, but one more shot turns into two and then three and then four. I would know, I’ve played drinking games before. Eren, there _are_ bad people in this world. Bad people who aren’t worth your trouble. And Jean? He’s not worth _any_ trouble. I don’t know the guy, but it sounds like your boyfriend wasn’t too far off by calling him an asshole last week.”

                Eren watches Ymir’s face as she speaks. It strikes him, how much Ymir knows and understands.

                “It’s unfortunate, it’s _shit_ , how you’ve just happened to run into the wrong kinds of people. But things can change, now, Eren,” Ymir says.

                Eren nods, feeling a little _hopeful._ It’s such a strange sensation, for his heart to be pounding out of optimism rather than out of the thrill of running a blade down his arms.

                Ymir’s _right._ She’s absolutely right. Eren still can’t bring himself to think of Jean as a _bad person,_ but he _can_ think of Jean as someone he needs to disassociate himself with. At least, until Eren becomes more confident in himself, until he’s able to look in the mirror and say fuck it to whatever anybody else thinks of him.

                “Ymir?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Thank you.”

                “No problem, little buddy.”

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “Hanji, please, I’m being _serious.”_

“I know you are! I’m happy for you, really!” Hanji cheers, pulling Levi into a bear hug. “I think Eren will be so excited! _I’m_ so excited! Erwin, too, right? Erwin?”

                Erwin nods, though Levi’s not sure if Erwin even heard anything that was just uttered. Hanji speaks incredibly fast, and she switches subjects at the speed of lightning, Levi wouldn’t blame him if he’s only been picking up on every other word.

                “You’re getting married, right?” Erwin asks for confirmation, “And you wanted our help.”

                Levi nods. He pushes Hanji off of him, where she falls back onto the couch next to Erwin. They’re in Levi’s living room, and Levi stands just in front of Hanji and Erwin, who are sitting down – it makes Levi feel taller, to hover over them like this. He’d never say that out loud, though.

                “Oh, Levi!” Hanji wrings her hands together, “Where’s the cute little bunny rabbit at?”

                “Eren? Therapy.”

                “Thera- _Therapy?”_ Hanji’s smile doesn’t die down, but Levi can tell that her enthusiasm does.

                “Yes.”

                “Why?”

                “He needs it.”

                Hanji freezes, thinking about this for a moment. “Is this because he’s anorexic?”

                “And suicidal.”

                “Sui- _My baby is suicidal?_ Levi, why don’t you tell me these things?”

                “I didn’t think you-“

                “Of _course_ I care! If I’d have known, I would’ve taken him to Disney World.”

                “Hoh? Really?”

                “ _Yes,_ really.”

                Levi glares down at her. Erwin, beside her, looks just as dazed as Levi feels, and he shows it more than Levi does. But, then again, Hanji confuses everybody.

                “Ah, Levi?” Hanji says, stretching out her legs while her hands lie in her lap, “I have something that I should probably, maybe, kind of tell you. It’s been bothering me, and I could be completely wrong-”

               “The hell is it?”

                Hanji looks at him and hesitates - Levi feels a little bad for her. Whatever’s wrong, she didn’t deserve to have to suffer with the thought of it for longer than five seconds. It’s unsettling, to see her with a face that doesn’t scream happiness.

                “A few weeks ago, I was walking Eren home. Sort of how I found out about where he lives, yeah? But when I first saw him, he was walking out onto the street, right? And I didn’t think much of it, it was dark outside, I thought maybe he’d just fallen over, and when I asked, he said he just tripped, so-“

                “Wait,” Levi interrupts her, “Are you trying to tell me you almost watched Eren kill himself?”

                Hanji’s smile morphs instantly into a huge frown, her eyebrows knitting together. Levi doesn’t speak again, and neither does Erwin – Levi’s a little surprised, this is usually the moments when Eyebrows would pipe in some wise words. But, then again, Erwin _did_ already catch an eyeful of Eren’s scars.

                It pains Levi, to think that Eren had nearly committed suicide even _after_ meeting Levi. Levi’s tried his hardest to make Eren as happy as possible, and it only intensifies that want, to learn that Eren really _has_ come incredibly close to death by means other than starvation.

                Levi’s definitely not backing down now. He’ll marry Eren, and he’ll make Eren happy _for the rest of his life._ From now until the day he dies, Eren will be showered with nothing but love and gifts and kisses from Levi and hugs from a shitty four-eyed woman and her bushy-browed companion. No matter what it takes, Levi’s going to make sure Eren wakes up with a smile each day. A _real_ smile, too. Not a forced one.

                “Hanji,” Levi addresses, “Where can we buy an engagement ring?”

                Hanji nearly squeals at the subject change. “Oh! Petra would know. She loves looking at that kind of stuff. I’ll call her, okay? Don’t move!”

                Hanji sprints out of her chair, moving out into the hallway with her cell phone. Levi waits until she’s finally gone before turning his head and looking at Erwin – who, as per usual, doesn’t show an incredible amount of emotion. Though Levi knows he hasn’t much room to talk, Levi’s been told off one too many times for scaring little kids with just his neutral face.

                Levi sighs. He’d attempt to converse with Erwin, but Hanji’s in the next room over nearly screaming at her phone. Even if he _did_ try to talk to Erwin, he couldn’t get a word in, what with Hanji’s lack of volume control.

                And, besides, Levi’s not too eager to speak right now, anyways. He’s too busy thinking of _Eren,_ and how Eren nearly committed suicide not too long ago. Levi could’ve prevented that. If Eren had just told him that he felt depressed, Levi would’ve thrown Eren right onto his bed and kissed him until he felt better.

                But when _was_ this? Hanji said it was several weeks ago, but that could mean anything. If she had told him more details, Levi might be able to figure out why Eren felt depressed. He might be able to figure out why Eren wanted to die, and if he can figure _that_ out, he’ll be able to find a way to make sure that Eren never feels low for that particular reason ever again. Even if it was _Levi_ who caused his depression, he’s willing to change anything about himself in order to make Eren happy. Because Eren _deserves_ to be happy. Eren deserves love, he deserves gifts, he deserves _marriage._

                Hanji hops back into the room, smiling. “Petra’s on her way! I didn’t tell her why, though. I thought maybe you’d like to be the one to tell her, Levi.”

                Levi nods. Hanji’s a little eccentric, but she always gets the job done. And for that, he’s immensely grateful.

                “Do you think Eren would be willing to wear a wedding dress?” Hanji asks suddenly, coming up beside Levi and throwing an arm around him, “I think he’d look so cute in one. Or maybe you? You, too, would look nice, but only if we cover those burly shoulders of yours.”

                “I’m not wearing a dress.”

                “You’re no fun, Levi,” Hanji whines, “What about the garter? Or the-“

                “Hanji, we don’t even know if Eren’s going to say yes yet,” Levi tries to remove her arm from around him, but Hanji’s persistent on staying right where she is.

                “Why wouldn’t he? I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Levi, and even if he doesn’t say yes _right now,_ he definitely will in the future.”

                “Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of commitment.”

                “Are you feeling insecure, Levi?” Hanji teases, “Don’t worry about it. If he says no, so what? Try again later. My shoulder’s open if you need somewhere to cry.”

                “Yeah? No, thank you,” Levi finally manages to escape her grasp, and he steps away just far enough so that he can kick her in the gut if she lunges at him in an attempt to snuggle again.

                “Aw, don’t be that way,” Hanji smiles down at him, “Like I said. Eren loves you. I do, too. I love you. But not like that.”

                “I like you, too, Hanji,” Levi admits. And it’s not even a lie – if he didn’t appreciate her company _even a little bit,_ he’d kick her ass and tell her to go fuck herself. She’s touchy, clingy, and she doesn’t know the definition of _personal space,_ but hell if Levi doesn’t think she’s helpful and, to an extent, humorous.

               Levi breathes out a long breath – it’d taken a lot, to convince himself to tell Hanji and Erwin of his plans to propose to Eren. It’s not so much that he doubted their support, it was more so out of fear for his own feelings. He was afraid that, as soon as he’d utter the words, he’d regret them, knowing that now that they’re out there, there’s no way to get out of this. Hanji will _never_ shut up about this, now that she knows what’s going on.

               But, Levi _doesn’t_ regret telling them about his marriage plans. Not a single bit. In fact, he’s _glad_ now that he’s told them. It makes him even more eager to go out and buy a ring and ask for Eren’s hand.

                He silently hopes for Petra’s arrival to be soon, he’s dying to find the perfect gift to wrap around Eren’s beautiful, thin ring finger. He’s dying to wrap his arms around Eren and kiss him until their lips are sore and he can’t wait until the day that Eren’s standing across from him murmuring those hushed two words of “I do,” and _holy hell, the honeymoon night_ , and shit, everything’s going to be expensive, but it’s worth it, it’s all worth it.

                “Levi?”

                Levi looks up at Hanji, and sees that, while she’s grinning, there’s genuine curiosity sparkling in her eyes. But, then again, when _isn’t_ there?

                “Yes?”

                “When did you realize you were in love with Eren?”

                Levi blinks, opening his mouth to speak – but when _did_ he realize it? He’s always liked Eren, though towards the beginning it was more so because of his beautiful eyes and, for a lack of better words, _that ass_. But Levi didn’t _fall in love_ until just a bit later. It’s hard for him to pinpoint an exact moment – he just happened to look at Eren one day and suddenly it wasn’t just lust anymore. And it all happened so fast, Levi’s not even sure if there _was_ a moment where he didn’t harbor a love for his always so beautiful minou, his roudoudou, his _Paper Thin Beauty._

                “I don’t know,” Levi shrugs.

                Hanji, much to Levi’s surprise, doesn’t reprimand him for not giving her a direct answer. Levi would’ve thought that Hanji would pounce on him and hold him down until he admits as many very specific details as can be thought of, from what he was wearing when he realized it to what was the length of Eren’s socks in proportion to his legs.

                Hanji doesn’t do such a thing. Maybe she understands Levi, and maybe she realizes that some things just _happen._ Or maybe she’s just plotting out a way to find it out through pestering. Either option is likely.

                Hanji sprints off before Levi even realizes what just happened, and it’s not until Hanji’s dragging a flabbergasted Petra into the living room that Levi comprehends that the doorbell had been rung. He’d been too busy overthinking Hanji’s silence and how peculiar she is, blending in with thoughts of his gorgeous Aphrodite-esque Eren wearing a garter around his thigh while Levi kneels in front of him, pulling it off with his teeth. And maybe Eren _would_ wear a dress, they’re probably not going to have a huge wedding, so why not? And stockings, too, Eren would look amazing in stockings. White stockings. His skin is just the right shade of tan so that a pure, milk white would contrast perfectly. Levi, on the other hand, would blend right in, he’s so pale.

                “Hi, Levi,” Petra greets him, “Erwin. And, ah, Hanji.”

               “Petra,” Hanji interlocks their arms, smiling down at her and ruffling her strawberry blonde hair, “Levi has something to tell you.”

                Levi sighs. At this rate, Hanji’s going to force Levi to tell, quite literally, _everyone_ about his plans to engage Eren. And, while he wouldn’t mind, he certainly doesn’t want to have to go around once more and tell _literally everyone_ what Eren’s response was when he proposed.

                Levi, though, is willing to put his own emotions aside in order to make everything perfect for Eren. Whether he proposes tonight, or whether it be in five months, or even five _years_ , Levi’s going to try his hardest to make Eren as blissful as can be. Eren deserves this sort of joy. Eren is beautiful. Eren is a cute, cuddly teddy bear that deserves to be loved endlessly.

                “What is it, Levi?” Petra tilts her head, her hair covering half of her forehead. Her eyes, too, are beautiful. But not quite on the same level as Eren’s.

                Levi resigns to his fate. Anything to get Eren in his arms tonight, and tomorrow, and forever from now on.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “Mm, so, Eren, let’s talk about your _other_ friends, besides Roomy and Shorty,” Ymir suggests, “You have others, right?”

                “Uh, yeah,” Eren shrugs, “But, they aren’t as close anymore.”

                “That’s fine,” Ymir nods, “Just tell me about them.”

                Eren inhales, preparing himself. He’s still sore, he still aches, he’s still incredibly anxious. But he’s used to it. Everything hurts, everything _always_ hurts. There’s never a moment anymore where he _doesn’t_ hurt, except maybe when he’s sleeping. Even when he’s cuddling with Levi, there’s still a pain in his hips and in his shoulders and in the arms he wraps around Levi’s body. The only sort of comfort is the fact that Levi’s so near, the fact that Levi’s so close and the fact that Levi loves him so much and trusts him and thinks he’s so attractive. If Levi weren’t there, the hurting would undoubtedly intensify – much as it does now, as he sits in the exact same spot as one week ago, without any hands to wrap around his and without any cold, gray eyes to reassure him that everything’s okay.

                But that’s exactly why he’s here without Levi today. So that he can learn to do this alone. So that he can talk to Ymir about _everything,_ leaving out no details.

                “Uh, well, I have two other friends that I, um, talk to sometimes.”

                Ymir nods, encouraging him to continue. “Their names?”

                “Mikasa. And Armin.”

                “Pretty names.”

                “Pretty people, too.”

                “Oh?” Ymir sits up, “What makes you say so?”

                “Well, Mikasa especially, she has long black hair, it’s so lovely. And her skin, too, is so smooth and light and clear, and her eyes are beautiful. She doesn’t even wear a lot of makeup. She’s perfect, honestly,” Eren sighs, looking up at Ymir and rubbing his arms despite the jacket around himself, “And Armin’s pretty, too. A little less so than Mikasa, but still. He has blond hair. Shoulder-length. It’s so soft, and you should feel his hands, they’re soft too. I love them. I think he uses a lot of hand sanitizer.”

                Ymir nods every now and then as Eren speaks, her features telling Eren that she truly is listening intently. She doesn’t write down much, but she’s _listening._

                “And Armin has amazing blue eyes. I’m kind of jealous, I look like shit compared to them,” Eren mutters, fluttering his eyelashes at the threat of tears – his cheeks feel warm, and his heart aches. He hates it, admitting out loud the fact that he’s envious because his _friends_ look better than him, but it’s the truth.

                Ymir raises her eyebrows at this. “Got any pictures?”

                Eren nods, pulling his phone back up to his face and searching through his photos until he finds the perfect one – it’s several months old, a shitty selfie of all three of them together. Eren’s in the middle, as happy as one can fake being, with Armin to his left and Mikasa to his right. Mikasa, as if she just _has_ to make it obvious to the world that she loves Eren with all her heart and Eren is hers and only hers, has both arms around Eren’s neck, pulling him close to her face. Armin stands nearby, a hand on Eren’s back, trying to get into the picture – he’s smiling, his hair shining against the odd lighting and his eyes even wider than usual. Eren recognizes the picture – it was taken just when he’d started starving himself. Perhaps a month or two into his phase of not eating. Someone’s birthday party, though Eren doesn’t remember whose – it was one of Armin’s friends, he thinks. Either way, he hadn’t eaten a single thing at the party with the excuse of not feeling well, and everyone fell for it.

                Eren shows Ymir the photo, and Ymir examines it for a few seconds. “How old is this?”

                “Several months.”

                “And I take it that’s you in the center?”

                “Mhm.”

                Ymir looks down at the photo and back up at Eren, seemingly comparing the two. She does this for a few seconds, narrowing her eyes and knitting her eyebrows together. “But I thought you said you look like shit compared to them.”

                “I do,” Eren looks at her, studying her face.

                “Not from what I’m seeing.”

                “I’m sorry?”

                “You look fine, Eren,” Ymir says, “Is this what this is all about? The whole not eating thing. Have you been comparing yourself to others?”

                Eren looks beside him to Levi for solace, but is only met with the sight of an empty chair and the memory that Levi’s not here today. Eren takes a deep breath, but then turns back to Ymir and mumbles a hushed, “Yes.”

                “What are you comparing, exactly?”

                “What do you mean?”

                Ymir hands Eren his phone back. “Look at your friends and tell me what they have that you want.”        

                Eren hesitates, glancing back down at the photo. There’s _so much_ that he wants – their slim stomachs, their thin arms, their smooth faces, their happy smiles, their perfect thighs. “Uh, I mean, I like their faces.”

                “Is that all?”

                “Ah, uh, no. Their bodies, too.”

                “Details, babe.”

                “Mikasa’s hips are so wide, without being ugly. And her legs transition perfectly, too, and her stomach is gorgeous and muscular. You can’t look at her without wanting to _be_ her.”

                Ymir clicks her pen absentmindedly, jotting down quick notes every now and then – notes that are just short enough to be effective whilst not distracting to Eren.

                “And Armin, too. He, uh, I just love his face. And his hair, too, I’d love hair like that. My hair is horrible and it’s messy and it takes forever to brush through it, and when I do, I shed like a dog,” Eren continues, “And Armin has thin eyebrows. Mine aren’t thin. They’re thick, but I don’t know how to fix them, and it’s expensive to get someone else to do them.”

                Ymir finishes writing down a note before looking back up at Eren and saying, “Keep going. Tell me why you feel like you need to look like them.”

                “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Eren says, “They’re beautiful. I want to be beautiful.”

                “And you’re not?”

                “No. I’m hideous.”

                “And, if I’m right in thinking this, it was your roommate who told you that you were ugly in the first place?”

                “I- Yeah. But, I mean, he’s not wro-”

                A timer buzzes on Ymir’s watch. She shuts it off, and with a sigh, says, “Unfortunately we have to end this here. But, Eren, I expect to see you back next week, alright?”

                Eren nods.

                “I’ll see if I can’t bring Krista in next time, too. You’ll love her, she really is an angel,” Ymir stands up, adding with a laugh, “And tell Shorty that I missed him.”

                Eren lets out a little chortle at that, allowing Ymir to pull him up and lead him out of the room. He can’t bring himself to speak – just the act of having to admit that he truly, honestly thinks he looks repulsive hurts. It’s just one more thing to add to the long list of things that pain him – his legs are stiff, walking just behind Ymir, and his arms shake against his body as he bites his lip and digs his nails into his biceps. It’s hard to keep pace with Ymir, considering how much each movement sends waves of hurt to different parts of his body, how he has to blink rapidly to clear his eyelashes of the impending tears. His cheeks are still unbearably warm, and he removes one hand from his arm to go up and feel his jaw – his hand feels like ice compared to it.

                Eren can’t wait to get back home. He can’t wait to tell Levi what Ymir suggested, about moving in with him – he’s been meaning to bring it up, anyways, and now he finally has an excuse. And he can’t wait, to curl up against Levi and kiss him goodnight, and maybe they’ll share a dinner together. Eren’s not hungry, but maybe he can watch Levi eat – he’d love to cook him something, maybe he’ll put the cookbook to use for once. Levi once mentioned that he really likes eating foods that have a filling in them, maybe Eren will have to learn how to whip up a quick dessert for him. Levi would like that. Levi makes _Eren_ so many treats, why not return the favor?

                Eren forces a smile as Ymir says her final goodbyes. The woman behind the counter that Eren had been, uh, _jealous_ of at the last appointment is, once again, in her spot behind the desk. Eren sends her a quick glare as he’s leaving, though he knows she doesn’t understand why.

                Once he steps outside, he lets out a muffled groan, a hushed sob as he continues to fight the urges growing inside him. It’s so overwhelming, having to sit down in front of someone and _talk to them._

                But it’s over now. And it’s raining outside, too, but Eren’s fine with that. It’s only a light pour, and it’s been far too long since it’s last rained. Eren would rather be out here in the drizzle than inside with a therapist, no matter _how_ nice Ymir is to be around. And while the rain bathes him and removes any and all traces of warmth from his body, it’s almost comforting – he feels relieved out here. With home in mind and nobody else around. His phone is likely fucked from where it now sits in Eren’s back pocket, but Eren’s hopeful that _maybe_ it won’t start raining too hard before he gets back home.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “Oh, what about this one, Levi?” Petra turns her phone over to Levi, and on the screen is a picture of a cake, cut into two differently sized squares, one on top of the other, with a sequence of repeating pink, white, and brown colors trimming the edges. On the top is written the word ‘love,’ and Levi shakes his head immediately at the suggestion.

                “No,” he says, “It looks like shit.”

                “Maybe this one, then?” she flicks her finger over the screen and up next comes a picture of a three-tier cake with white frosting and leaves decorating the sides of the layers. The top has three differently colored roses, one pink, one red, and one a shade in between. It certainly looks better than the last one, but Levi’s not too sure that he wants to eat a cake with what looks to be artificial leaves over the top. That would be hell to have to remove while munching down on it.

                Erwin left some time ago, he had to go attend to a frantic call from Oluo, requesting that someone come by and help him with ‘ _some needy customers_.’ Levi suspects that he just wanted to draw Petra away from the crowd and back to him, but Levi, being the ass that he is, insisted that Erwin go instead. And Oluo couldn’t really argue that – to argue that would be to admit that, yes, he _did_ just call because he’s madly in love and wants Petra back.

                Levi just hopes that Erwin can keep his mouth shut about the engagement – which, Erwin’s never really been one to spill secrets, so Levi thinks he’s safe. Oluo, though, if _he_ knew that Levi wanted to get married, Levi would never hear the end of it.

                Levi has some rather persistent acquaintances.

                “Maybe,” Levi says in reference to the cake Petra’s showing him. He hands the phone back to her, and she trains her sights on it once again, skimming more wedding supplies. Hanji is glued to a laptop beside her, searching for the best places to go and buy a ring, and, well, the ring itself – they’ve planned it so that Hanji and Levi will officially go and hunt out a ring next week while Eren’s at therapy again, though they’d go now if Levi didn’t know that his time was dwindling. Eren should be back at any moment.

                “Oh, Levi, what about this?” Hanji holds up her computer, showing Levi a picture of a plain, gold ring with a miniature diamond at the end. “It’s fancy, but not too fancy, you know? I think that suits you.”

                “Maybe.”

                “Levi, we have to decide on _something._ ”

                “And I’ll decide on something when I see something I like.”

                Hanji groans, but goes back to searching for a ring. She sits back, her legs in the air and her laptop on her stomach just below her chest. Petra sits up next to her head, her legs crisscrossed and her chin in her palm. Levi remains standing up, occasionally pacing as he tries to sort out the details in his head.

                He needs to figure out how and when he’s going to do it – he’s thinking he’ll do it over dinner, but maybe that’s too cliché. Maybe he should do it at night, when they’re cuddling again. Or possibly in the morning, when Eren’s still drowsy and his hair is ruffled, and his cheeks are flushed a light pink from sweating overnight. Or maybe he’ll do it when they’re on vacation somewhere, maybe he’ll take Eren to a beach and propose by the ocean. Eren’s said, multiple times, how much he loves the ocean. He’d probably faint if Levi asked him there.

                And what about their honeymoon? Where would Eren want to go? Probably somewhere tropical. Somewhere near the ocean, of course. Secluded, too, maybe. Somewhere where they could hang around under a palm tree drinking tea one moment and the next be fucking each other against the sand. Eren would like that, right?

                Eren would look beautiful, under the sun, covered in a bathing suit and one of Levi’s larger shirts. And, too, he’d look stunning under the stars, exhausted from the day and weary in Levi’s arms. They don’t even _have_ to make love, not at all, because Levi’s content if all they do is throw sand in each other’s eyes and trip each other on the way to the bathroom.

                “What about this one, Levi?” Petra chimes, “It has-“

                Petra’s interrupted by the sight of Eren walking in, and though he looks content, he’s dripping wet. His hair is matted to his forehead, and his shirt and jacket are stuck to his skin. His pants hang low, and he takes hesitant steps in – Levi hears him mumble a quick apology for making a mess, but all Levi can think of right now is the fact that Eren needs to be warmed up as soon as humanly possible.

                “Petra,” Levi addresses, watching as she quickly hides her phone so that Eren won’t see it, “Go upstairs. At the end of the hallway, there’s a closet, get some blankets out of it for Eren.”

                “Yes, sir,” Petra nods, rushing off towards the upstairs.

                “Hanji?” Levi turns, and Hanji’s moving very similarly to Petra – she shuts her laptop immediately, tossing it to the side and standing at attention. “Make Eren something warm.”

                Hanji, just like Petra had, nods and heads off towards Levi’s kitchen. She stops by Eren very briefly to squeeze his shoulder before jogging away.

                “Come here, Eren,” Levi beckons, and Eren takes the few steps over to him. Just like last week after going to therapy, he looks upset, and it hurts Levi, to see him this way. His eyes are darkened, narrowed and pointed towards the floor as he curls into himself, fingers clutching the sleeves of his jacket.

                Levi helps him pull the coat off, folding it quickly and setting it aside. Next comes Eren’s shirt, despite Eren’s protests – Levi reassures him that neither Petra nor Hanji will bite, and they’ll only see him like that for maybe ten seconds before he’s covered once again with a blanket. Eren still seems a little reluctant, but he goes along with what Levi says.

                Levi hears Petra hurrying down the stairs, so he wraps an arm around Eren and lets the boy cuddle into his side and hide as much of himself as he can. His skin is wet and sticky, and he smells like a wet dog, but Levi’s willing to take some risks to make sure that Eren doesn’t have to feel uncomfortable for longer than is necessary.

                “Levi? There were only bath towels-“ Petra starts.

                “I don’t care,” he growls, “Just give me one.”

                Petra tosses a bath towel to Levi, and, using only one hand, he unfolds it and places it over Eren’s shoulders. He removes his other arm from around Eren, choosing to use it to instead aid in holding the covering up.

                “Are you okay?” Levi murmurs to Eren, who’s standing straight now, eyes finding Levi’s.

                “Mhm.”

                “Do you want something to eat?”

                “Nuh-uh. Just tired.”

                Levi nods, placing an arm around Eren’s waist. “Petra,” he says, “You and Hanji stay down here and, ah, attend to _some business._ I’m taking Eren upstairs.”

                Petra moves aside with a distracted nod, allowing Levi and Eren room to slip past and head towards their bedroom. Eren mumbles another apology, and though Levi tells him not to worry about making a mess, he can tell that Eren’s not really listening.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “Levi?”

                “Yes, my love?”

                “Why is Hanji so loud?”

                Levi sighs, shifting on the bed so that Eren’s head is in his lap. Eren lies curled up under the blankets, wearing nothing but a pair of Levi’s underwear – they’d removed his clothes not only so that Eren wouldn’t run the risk of catching hypothermia, due to being wet, but also because Eren may or may not really, _really_ like wearing Levi’s clothing.

                “I can go get her to shut up, if you want me to,” Levi offers, running a hand through Eren’s damp hair.

                “No, it’s fine,” he says, “Just hard to fall asleep to.”

                Eren rolls over, looking up at Levi from where he lies. He knows that Levi’s just waiting for him to fall asleep, and then he’ll make his way back down to Hanji and Petra and do whatever they’d been doing before Eren so rudely interrupted them.

                “I’ll go break her neck if you want me to.”

                Eren laughs, drowsy but still awake enough to understand what Levi’s saying to him. He’s trying to will himself to sleep. It’s what he needs most, right now. A distraction from reality, a reason to not have to talk. A way to lighten the burden that he’s placing on Levi.

                No, he’s _not_ a burden. Absolutely _not._ If he were, Levi would leave him. He would’ve left a long time ago, if he didn’t want to deal with Eren’s shit. And if he really didn’t care about Eren, he would’ve just snapped and made it clear that he doesn’t want to have to put up with this.

                Even if Eren _isn’t_ a burden, though, that doesn’t stop his mind from wanting to tell himself that he is.

                “Levi?”

                “Mhm?”

                “Can I move in with you?” Eren says, then tries to explain himself with, “It’s just, my therapist, Ymir, you know, she said-“

                “Yes.”

                “Yes?”

                “Mhm. I’d love it if you lived with me.”

                Eren exerts what little energy is left in his body to push himself upwards and peck Levi’s chin with a kiss. Levi doesn’t smile – he rarely does – but he _does_ return the favor with a kiss to Eren’s forehead.

                “Levi?”

                “Yes, love?”

                “What was that thing you taught me to say last week? In French.”

                “What, je suis beau?”

                “Yeah. Je suis beau.”

                “Oui, je suis d'accord.”

                “Huh?”

                “I agree. You are beautiful.”

                “Thank you, daddy,” Eren yawns. It’s said out of a desperation for a subject change, and _maybe_ a little bit of lust on Eren’s part.

                Levi doesn’t respond immediately, instead placing the back of his hand over Eren’s forehead and pausing for a good thirty seconds before saying, “What?”

                “Last week,” Eren murmurs, “I said you could be my daddy, if you want to.”

                “You were being serious?”

                “Only if you’re not going to make fun of me for it.”

                Levi looks a little muddled, his face just above Eren’s, but Eren wouldn’t say that it’s an expression of disgust. Just confusion.

                “I’m not going to make fun of you,” Levi says slowly, “But do you really want to do this?”

                “Why, is daddy mad at me?”

                “I- No. No, I’m not.”

                Eren purses his lips, and sits up, rubbing his eyes briefly to wake himself up. He then moves over and sits on Levi’s lap, his face just above Levi’s now, his legs around his waist. He slides his hands under Levi’s shirt, pressing their lips together and establishing dominance over the momentarily taken aback Levi. It takes him a second, but Levi starts to play along, massaging his fingers over Eren’s hips and grunting when Eren’s tongue slides inside his mouth.

                Levi presses his thumbs to the bones of Eren’s hips, his fingers squeezing him while Eren runs his _own_ hands over Levi’s abdomen, leaving behind light scratches. Levi gasps as Eren’s tongue swipes over him, filling his mouth and preventing him from escaping. Eren removes his touch from Levi’s torso and reaches up to grip his hair, pulling Levi’s head back. With a reluctant groan from Levi, Eren leaves Levi’s mouth and instead traces over his neck, peppering it with kisses and sucking marks into his skin.

                Levi willingly extends his head back, granting Eren easier access to coat him with love bites. Eren, unused to the sensation, looks back up to Levi every now and then to make sure he’s doing well – and, judging by the way Levi moans underneath him, Eren would say he’s doing just fine.

                “Does daddy like it when I do this?” Eren murmurs, reeling back and flashing Levi a pair of puppy eyes. He wiggles his hips back and forth, rubbing friction against Levi’s hard-on. Levi merely gasps in response, and Eren can feel his cheeks heat up at the sound – he tries to muffle his own noises, but it’s hard to when Levi’s so _big_ and so _hard_ and so _hot._

                “Hah? Uh, ah- Yes, yes, daddy loves it when his baby boy tries to act all cute and powerful,” Levi breathes out, his tone rough as he pants lightly. His neck is covered in spit, from when Eren was a little more careless with his kisses, but Levi doesn’t seem to care. He makes no attempt to try and clean himself off.

                “Does daddy love it when I _bite_ him?” Eren whispers innocently against Levi’s jaw, sucking one of the previous markings until it’s a darker, richer color.

                “Daddy does," Levi grunts, slipping a hand under one of the pant legs of Eren’s – _Levi’s_ – boxers, groping the side of his hip. He helps Eren move, guiding his legs until they’re spread wider and Levi has more access to grind against him. Levi shifts with him, pushing gentle thrusts upwards against Eren’s ass, and if they weren’t wearing clothing, Eren has no doubt that he’d hop right on that boner and ride it until Levi’s passed out from exhaustion.

                “ _Fuck_ me, daddy,” Eren murmurs, pulling away and wiping the drool from the side of his mouth, “Daddy has the thickest cock I’ve _ever_ seen.”

                “Fuck, Eren,” Levi gasps, “Fuck. Fuck, if Petra and Hanji weren’t here, I would wreck you.”

                “Maybe in the morning, then?”

                “Ah, _yes._ Yes, yes, yes.” Levi tries to pull Eren back into another wet kiss, but Eren moves away, throwing himself onto the mattress beside Levi.

                Eren looks up at Levi as he says, breathlessly, “I’m going to sleep. Wake me up when you’re ready.”

                “So you’re just going to leave me like this?”

                “Jerk off if you need to. I’m tired.”

                Levi lets out a huff of air, and as Eren closes his eyes, he feels Levi tug a blanket over his body and kiss him with a quick “ _goodnight_.” Eren snuggles into it, allowing the warmth to coat his already hot and bothered body as he listens to the faint footsteps of Levi exiting the room. He waits, hearing the padding of his lover as he travels down the staircase, and eventually, the air is silent again, except for Eren’s breathing.                 

                He feels unbearably uncomfortable; his shorts far too tight against the strain of his erection and his body far too sweaty from the excitement of having his lover praise him with moans against his flesh. He’d never thought of himself as someone who’d find enjoyment in calling his boyfriend “daddy,” but then again, Eren’s never really loved someone like he loves Levi.

                And Levi, too, seemed a little uncertain when Eren started. He can’t blame him, though – Levi’s probably been too preoccupied with fighting his urge to clean everything and making French desserts to think about whether he’d like the person on his dick to call him a name other than the one given at birth. Levi seemed to enjoy it, at the very least.

                Eren takes a moment to calm himself, the throbbing in his lower half painful as he attempts to fall asleep. But Eren’s not upset by it. In fact, he’d go so far as to call himself incredibly lucky – Levi’s so kind to him, and he’s so _willing_ to try new things.

                Levi deserves only the best. And while Eren is _far_ from being the best, it’s fine, because Levi’s apparently willing to settle with him.

                Maybe Eren should start giving himself more credit than he currently does. His emotions fluctuate so roughly – one moment he’s calling himself hideous in front of Ymir, the next he’s asking Levi to help him learn to say “ _I’m beautiful_ ” in French. One moment he’s feeling depressed, the next he’s situated on Levi’s lap, begging for his cock to fuck him until he’s unable to think straight.

                But Eren can’t truthfully say that he honestly, one-hundred-percent still wants to _die._ Hurt himself, maybe, starve himself, sure, but die? Not so much, anymore.

                And it’s not even so much just because he has Levi, now. It’s because he has Ymir, too, and her friend, Krista. At the _very_ least, he has them. His relationship with Ymir and Krista might all just be an artificial friendship, formed merely because Ymir’s getting paid for this, but Ymir seems kind underneath her smug exterior.

                But then again, Ymir was the one who told Eren that not everyone has good intentions. And thus far, Eren’s just sort of _assumed_ that everybody’s a good person. Which isn’t necessarily true, but Eren can’t bear to think horrible thoughts of anyone without wanting to punch himself in the face. Even Jean, Eren can’t possibly look at him and say that he’s an asshole, like Levi’s been trying to drill into his head.

                Eren can’t let anybody else get hurt. Not in the way that _he’s_ been hurting.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “Guess what I found, Levi?” Hanji chimes as she hears Levi coming down the stairs, “It’s a-“

                Levi enters the room to find that Petra’s shoving her fist down Hanji’s throat. He sighs and strides over to them and sits on the couch beside Petra, and Petra slowly removes her hand, trying to shake off the drool.

                “Sorry, Hanji,” Petra mutters, “I was afraid Levi’s boyfriend might come downstairs with him. It’s a surprise, remember?”

                Hanji murmurs an apology, sitting up straight and eyeing Levi with a curious expression. Petra, too, sends odd glances over at him before averting her eyes awkwardly and snatching Hanji’s laptop from her grip. Beside Hanji, on a mini table, lie four drinks, piping warm with steam emitting from them.

                “Levi?” Hanji asks, raising an eyebrow, “Did you have fun up there?”

                “I’m sorry?”

                “Your neck.”

                Levi runs a hand over his throat and collarbones, and sure enough, there are little dents in him from where Eren had danced over his skin withrough bites. Some of the marks are incredibly high and impossible to hide – there’s one on his jaw, about an inch or two away from the peak of his chin. Others are easier to conceal, like the one just above his nipple.

                Petra giggles beside Levi, butshe keeps her head facing away from him, likely not wanting to fall victim to one of his deathly glares. She trains her eyes on the screen in front of her, though it doesn’t look like she’s doing anything but staring at it.

                “Hoh,” is all Levi says, to indicate that, yes, he heard them, but no, he’s not going to go into detail about what went on upstairs.

                “I made hot chocolate,” Hanji changes the subject, “You can drink it while we’re busy deciding on an _engagement ring._ ”

                Hanji smiles knowingly, and Levi suddenly remembers exactly why he keeps her around. She’s eccentric, sometimes annoying, and a little _weird,_ but she’s useful and her heart’s in the right place.

               “Do you want a big wedding or a small one?” Petra asks, turning to look over at Levi. She, too, is smiling.

               “Are you two going to have babies?” Hanji adds, peering over Petra and raising her eyebrows.

               “We haven’t even gotten married yet,” Levi says.

               “I’m sure Eren would be great with kids,” Hanji grins, ignoring Levi’s statement.

               “I’m sure he _would_ be,” Levi shrugs.

               “ _Ahem,_ ” Petra clears her throat, “Big or small?”

               Levi allows a sigh to escape his throat, but he sits up, resigning to his fate of having to answer a million questions about his wedding. He really shouldn’t be doing this without Eren’s input, but Eren has enough to deal with right now - what with the therapy, the stress, the constant fighting to get up in the mornings and try to eat. Levi can see that it’s weighing him down, no matter how hard he tries to pretend like it’s _not._ His soft green eyes are filled with everlasting tears, he’s constantly glancing down at his arms and his legs and his stomach, and hell, Levi’s noticed that he takes a minute every morning to just _look_ at himself in the mirror. Levi tries to distract him when he does that, but there’s only so much he can say to bring Eren away from his depression.

               Levi loves Eren. Absolutely. No doubt. Eren’s beautiful, in and out. Just his mere _presence_ is beautiful. The fact that Eren thinks that he’s anything less than perfect, the fact that he feels that he’s _so_ flawed that he’s gone to such extremes as to _hurt himself,_ it fills Levi with an irrevocable pain, a hurt that starts in his heart and spreads throughout, numbing his brain and causing his toes to curl.

               Levi’s not going to propose _just yet._ He’ll wait until Eren’s settled down, he’ll wait until Eren’s officially moved in and they grow to know the more _subtle_ details about each other. Which direction Eren likes to brush his teeth, how long his showers last, whether he shaves his legs or not - Levi wants to know _all_ of that. And it doesn’t matter, whether he finds out from simply lying in bed and watching his lover or whether Eren directly tells him.

               Levi’s fine with waiting. Even if it takes a year or two, he’ll wait. Eren’s _worth_ the wait. And, besides, it’ll take at least that long for Hanji and Petra to decide on all of the details of his wedding. Assuming that Eren says yes to him, of course.

               Eren’s so beautiful, on the inside as well as the outside. His eyes are the absolute best part of his appearance, though Levi hates to pick a favorite. The rest of him is just as outstanding - his legs, his arms, even his _ankles_ are beautiful. When he tries to get Levi to stay awake a little longer, or when he tries to persuade Levi into buying him a gift - he’s _beautiful._ He couldn’t possibly be any less than so. Even when he’s mad, Levi’s left awestruck from how well his pursed lips go with his furrowed eyebrows.

               Eren would look a million times better with a ring on his finger. Which is saying a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what kind of wedding cake would Levi and Eren have?


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is not a linear process.

                One hour. He has to survive for one hour. Plus a few extra minutes to walk in there and get everything settled out, and also the time that it takes to actually _get_ there, but those minutes are a _utopia_ compared to the shit that Eren has to go through every week.

                He’d thought that maybe therapy would get easier as time goes on, but it doesn’t. It never does. It’s as horrid as it’s ever been, and even the fact that he’s growing closer and closer to his therapist is no consolation. In fact, he’d be just fine with dropping Ymir completely, despite how rude he knows that thought is. Eren would be fine with dropping _everybody_ at this point - part of him feels so numb to the world, like his mind is too _different_ from everybody else’s. Another part feels so _attached_ to everyone, like he’s going to break if someone so much as looks at him the wrong way.

                Eren’s been eating a lot more than he used to - which might not be saying much, considering he’d been starving himself. He tries to eat at least one thing per day, he tries to sit through a meal without bursting into tears, he tries to make everyone _happy_. More often than not, however, he later finds himself hunched over and shoving fingers down his throat when Levi’s not around and obsessively checking to see how many calories he's already eaten for the day. Today he's only had 120. Two pieces of bread. Wheat bread, because he needs the nutrients.

                Levi’s been gone a lot more than he usually is. Hanji and Petra are around more often, and Eren likes them, but he still worries whenever Levi’s away. It feels like Levi’s purposefully leaving so that he can avoid Eren, but there really isn’t any reason for Eren to feel that way. Levi goes out of his way so often to tell Eren just how much he loves him and how much he supports him and respects him. Levi puts up with his constant need for attention, when he absolutely doesn’t have to.

                It’s been three months since Eren’s started therapy. In that time, Eren’s gained ten pounds, which scares him - his ribs are disappearing from sight, but Eren doesn’t want that. He wants all of his bones to show through, he wants absolutely nothing to prevent him from being the _beautiful_ person that everyone cares so much about. Levi fell in love with a _thin_ person. Hanji met Eren when he was _skinny._ Petra only knows of a _bony_ Eren. Ymir, with her snarky attitude, is undoubtedly going to be the one whose eyes change in the way she looks at him as he gets heavier and as he grows further and further away from being _beautiful._

If Eren gains too much weight, will any of these people even love him anymore? He has his doubts. The way that his friends have been looking at him has changed so dramatically since Eren started going to therapy.

                It feels like the only thing that Eren's good for is fucking up.

                He sits down on the floor of his - not his, _Levi's_ , even though Eren technically lives here now - bathroom. It's as cold as ever, and there's hardly enough space for his long, thickening legs to settle. Even when he tries curling into a ball, he feels so claustrophobic. He's taking up too much space, no matter how much everyone tells him that he's _beautiful,_ that he's _too thin,_ that he _needs to eat more._

                When he'd gone through the process of moving in with Levi, Levi admitted to throwing his beloved scale out the window. The thought of it was funny, but it didn't settle in until later what that truly meant - Eren can't weigh himself anymore when he's at home. Levi doesn't have a scale. And his notebook, which Eren used to add up his calories, is missing. He has no idea what happened to it, and when he went to ask Levi, he did little more than shrug his shoulders. Eren has a feeling that he threw _that_ away, too. It doesn't matter, though. It was a gross notebook, covered in his blood and tears, the pages yellowing and bent from constant use. If Eren _were_ to start writing down his calories rather than just keep it in his mind, as he does now, he'd definitely need a new notebook, anyways.

                Levi's gone. He left ten minutes ago, and when Eren tried to get him to say where he was going, Levi brushed it off and refused to tell.

                Levi's been acting incredibly secretive - he won't tell Eren where he's been going every time that he leaves the house for something _other_ than working, and he always comes home tired and weary. It's only been about two months since all of this has started - the hiding that Levi does - but it hurts. Badly.

                Levi makes it a point to tell Eren to do something while he's gone, too. And Eren knows exactly why he does so - it's so that Eren won't leave the house. Eren's not dumb. He knows that Levi's not being truthful with him.

                His mind automatically assumes the worst, no matter how much he absolutely doesn't want it to. He always tries to counter the first bad thought that arrives in his head when Levi's makes some bullshit excuse for why he's leaving, with _"he must be helping someone out,"_ or _"he's probably just getting some exercise."_

                But unless someone needs helping at least four times a week, and unless Levi's somehow embarrassed about his increased need for physical activity, Eren knows that this is just wishful thinking. In reality, it _feels_ like something even worse, something that might just break Eren emotionally - or, at least, more so than he's already been broken. So many different assumptions flood him, from _Levi’s cheating,_ to _Levi’s growing bored with you,_ to _Levi thinks you’re annoying._ Eren can’t take it, he can’t handle the secrets and the hiding. He attempts to mask his sadness when Levi’s around, putting on his fakest smile and tilting his head slightly, in the way that Levi so loves. He’s not sure that it really works, though.

                His stomach gnaws at him, begging to be fed. The pain grows in his belly, distracting him from thoughts of Levi to thoughts of how hellish his life's become. He can't even hear anymore, his ears are filled only with the sounds of his body trying to fight for food and trying to get him to stand up and find something to eat before he has to leave for therapy in twenty minutes. In that time, he could so easily make a sandwich, he could so easily grab a handful of nuts, he could even force himself to shove something in the microwave and wait the dreaded five minutes that it takes to cook.

                But he can't. He can't even stand up. Everything hurts, now not only because he's so hungry, but because of Levi’s secretism. Hanji and Petra as well - they're always around Levi, and when they're not, they ask Eren weird questions like what his favorite color is and what he'd name his children, if he had any. There was also something about what his favorite cake flavor was, but that was one of the more mild questions.

                Eren feels lonely. He shouldn't, but he does. He feels so empty, in terms of his stomach _and_ his emotions. He's been drained of any hope that he might've had left for himself, because no matter how many times he starts to think that maybe his life is starting to turn around for the better, shit happens. And when shit happens, Eren can't eat. When Eren can't eat, _more_ shit happens.

                He's tried forcing himself to eat, but when he feels so down, as he does now, it only ends up hurting him. He can eat relatively just fine, when there's nothing plaguing his every thought. But as soon as Hanji sits down next to him with a plate of avocados and tries to get him to tell her about whether he'd ever consider wearing a long, white dress for a special occasion, all Eren wants to do is leave.

                Hanji's not a bad person. Annoying sometimes, sure, but bad? No. Eren wouldn't say so.

                But, then again, Eren's a horrible judge of character. Such has been proven by how he's nearly killed himself over people who, as Ymir would put it, _don't matter._

                Eren can't go to therapy today. He can't. He can't even breathe right now, there's no way that he's going to be able to will himself up and out the door and all the way over to Ymir. She'll understand if he misses one appointment, won't she? If nothing else, Eren can lie and say that he had to go somewhere and the schedules conflicted. Ymir was going to bring Krista again - Ymir's never directly stated it, but Eren has a feeling that she brings Krista around for her own benefit rather for Eren's. Krista's nice enough, and she's really touchy-feely, but Eren's not as comfortable around her as he is with Ymir. It might be because Krista looks at him with a sort of pity in her eyes that's absent in Ymir, but whatever it is, Eren hates himself for daring to think that Ymir is more valuable than Krista.

                Eren feels a stinging in his wrists, a pain accompanying the hurt in his gut. He pulls back the sleeves of his sweater - his tan arms are paled, tainted with the pinkness of his old scars.

                Eren hates the fact that he has those scars. Even more does he hate the fact that part of him _likes_ the way that the cuts look on his otherwise smooth skin. They break up the monotony of his disgusting flesh with red streaks down his arms, markings of when he'd been so weak as to hurt himself.

                Eren can feel his resolve slowly collapsing, no matter how much he tells himself that he can do this, that he's done this a million times before - _he doesn't have to hurt himself._ There are a ton of other ways to let out his pain. He doesn't have to succumb to this.

                But, he _can._ One more time won't kill him. He's not doing this to die, he just wants a way to vent out his frustration without having to go through the stress of facing Levi and Ymir and Krista and Hanji and Petra, telling them of things that plague his every thought and prohibit him from feeling good about himself. He knows that they care, and they'd be willing to listen to even the smallest of his problems. But he can't bring himself to tell them why he's so sad. They're not even here right now. He couldn't tell them anything even if he wanted to.

                Eren, with numbed legs, pulls himself up to his feet and stumbles towards the doorway and out into the bedroom. Levi's still not back yet. Why would he be? It's not like Eren _misses_ him or anything. It's not like Eren wakes up and pleads for him not to go to work every day. It's not like Eren's made it _explicitly clear_ that he'd like to have a little more alone time with Levi that doesn't include him falling asleep within five minutes of cuddling.

                Maybe Eren was stupid to think that Levi would continue to love him, even as he gains weight. _Stupid,_ right? Nobody wants to date someone who's _ugly._ And no matter what everyone says, fat isn't beautiful. It's never been beautiful. It'll never be beautiful.  

_Eren_ isn't beautiful. He'll never _be_ beautiful. He's either too thin or he's too thick. He's either so thin that people look at him with sadness in their eyes or he's so thick that everyone looks at him with contempt. Even Levi, his cold eyes used to have some sort of love in them. Now it's just disgust. Like everyone else. That's why Levi's started sleeping facing away from Eren rather than the usual spooning that he does, right? Granted, Levi's only slept facing away from him once, but once is enough.

                Eren finds his way into the kitchen, and it's not until he's holding the blade in his hand that he hesitates. He could so easily turn around, head back upstairs, and go to sleep. When he wakes up, this will all be over, the urge will be gone, Levi should be back, or maybe Hanji will be here - _someone._ Even that weird buff guy that Eren doesn't ever really talk to - Irvin something. Eren's never really talked to him, except for when the guy tried to lecture him on cutting himself.

_Fuck_ that. Eren's allowed to do whatever the hell he wants. Who even cares about Levi or Hanji or Petra or any of those people? They don't care about _him._ Why would they? Eren's not important. He's useless. He's done nothing for them. No amount of therapy could convince him that he's actually worth something.

                Eren positions the blade over his arm, gripping onto the handle so tightly that his fingers turn a pristine white. His hand shakes - he shouldn't do this. He's been doing _so_ well. He might not be eating like he should yet, but he hasn't cut himself in three months. He's never felt inclined to do so, until it struck him that his whole life's falling apart again just because he's gained a few pounds.

                Ten pounds is a lot. Especially for someone who'd previously been labeled as _too small._ When was the last time someone urged him to eat? Petra tried to, about a week ago. She had brought over some bread that she'd made, and she kept asking Eren and Levi to devour it. Eren's not sure whether it's because she wanted Eren to eat more, or whether she was just insecure about her cooking, but either way, Eren ended up eating about half of the loaf. Which isn't bad, but Eren felt like throwing up as soon as he realized what he'd done.

                Eren can't be fixed. He's too damaged. Therapy's helping, but Eren will never be the same as he once was. His inability to eat a meal without feeling regretful of it has ruined him. His cutting has destroyed any trace of sanity left inside of him.

                Eren's _useless_. He's not worth anyone's time. He's not even worth his _own_ time.

                Eren, with trembling wrists, presses the blade to his arm. It's right over one of his old scars, a light pink one that's been left unchanged for a while now. Blood pools at the surface immediately, stinging his already hurting flesh.

_This_ is why he's so useless. _This_ is why he's so pathetic, _this_ is why nobody wants him around. He's weak. He can't control himself. He's succumbing to something that shouldn't even be an issue in the first place.

                He pulls the blade further down until there's a nice, long cut across his forearm. A line of blood falls down his wrist and hits the kitchen floor below him, staining it a dark red.

                Eren's chest constricts itself, rendering him unable to breath. It's only one cut. That's all. But he immediately feels guilty, he immediately feels horrible. He shouldn't have done this. He should've just gone to bed and whined like a little bitch to Ymir later on. At least that way, he'd be getting some sort of help.

                Eren sets the knife down on the kitchen counter, backing away slowly with his entire body shaking now as tears fall from his eyes and cause him to choke on his own stunted intakes of air. If he couldn't breathe before, he definitely can't now. Not when his face is flooding with water and his neck's growing wet, not when his sobs come out broken and mangled, rough with strain and self-hatred.

                He wraps his arms around himself, not even caring that the bloodied one is going to ruin the nice new shirt that he'd bought himself as a celebration for remaining set on his goal toward recovery for a solid three months. He bought it four days ago. Today's the first day that he's worn it. It's ruined, now, but Eren quite frankly doesn't even give a shit anymore.

                His legs fail beneath him, and Eren falls to his knees, a disgusting ball of tears, self-loathing, and a bleeding wrist. The cut isn't even very big. It's maybe an inch or two long. It's as thin as a paper cut would be. But it's not the cut itself which hurts - it's the fact that Eren's failing himself.

                Eren wants to be happy. Why can't he just have that? Why is it too much to ask? Is this his punishment for being _fat_? Depression, wildly fluctuating emotions, horrible thoughts about the people he loves. Eren hasn't even talked to Jean or Marco since he moved out. Perhaps it's for the best - Levi certainly seems happier, knowing that Eren hasn't answered any of their calls.

                Should Eren even care what Levi thinks anymore, though? Despite Eren's constant advances, Levi hasn't tried to even so much as kiss Eren lately. The last time that they made love was nearly two months ago, and even then, it'd been Eren who did all of the work. Levi just sat back and let Eren do what he wanted. Eren could've sworn that Levi had fallen asleep halfway through, if it weren't for the nails digging into his hips as he sat on Levi. He still has marks from where Levi had touched him - Eren bruises fairly easily, and he'd brought that up to Ymir once several weeks ago. She said it was due to him not eating. Eren just thinks that it's a reflection of how broken he feels inside.

                Eren feels weak in his entire body - his arms shake despite him trying so hard to still them, his eyes refuse to cease their waterfalls, his wrists are burning even though all he’s done is make one mark, he can’t even feel his feet at this point. His chest is frozen, his heart paralyzed in his body and his lungs under a constant burning sensation. If someone so much as touched him right now, Eren’s positive that he’d shatter.

                He sits on his haunches, his calves flat on the floor and revealing just how beefy he’s gotten. Eating was a horrible idea. He knows he needs it to survive, but he’s been eating _way_ too much. He never should’ve gained ten pounds. It’s the reason that Levi’s trying to get away from him. It’s the reason that Krista looks up at him with a gloominess in her face. It’s why Hanji asks so many questions - she must think that, by distracting him, she’ll get him to stop eating so much. That has to be it.

                Eren sinks forward, his body moving on its own as he buries his face into the cold flooring of the kitchen. He kicks his legs back, an attempt to regain the feeling in them as he now lies on his stomach, arms still tied to his chest. His tears make it hard to breathe, his upper body rising up and down as the sobs wrack through his body over and over again. His blood’s drying against his shirt, and the cut sticks the fabric, adding extra pain to his already excruciatingly hurt flesh.

                Eren might as well just kill himself now. Levi’s going to leave him, once he finds out that Eren was too weak to keep his resolve and try to lead a healthier life. That, added onto the fact that he’s gaining weight at an alarming rate. Hanji’s going to leave, too - even though she acts like she doesn’t judge anyone for what they are or who they are, Eren knows that there’s a part of her silently wishing he were dead. Petra, too - she might look cute and friendly, but there’s nobody who could genuinely love Eren without thinking that he’s _annoying,_ that he’s _needy,_ that he’s _fat._

                Eren feels like a fucking whale. No matter what he puts on in the mornings, nothing ever fits quite right. Levi’s clothing doesn’t even help. It’s bigger than what Eren usually wears, but it doesn’t fit. Nothing fits. Eren’s too big. He has to start losing weight again.

                Eren gradually pushes himself off the ground and back up, standing once more. Everything hurts, an agonizing mixture of aching and hunger and depression that only _just_ wills him to move forward, to grab the knife from earlier and to start cleaning it off. The blade comes first - Eren can clean himself off afterwards. Eren’s less valuable than a stick of metal.

                Everybody’s going to hate him. If they don’t _already_ hate him, that is. Eren’s not too sure why he _doesn’t_ just go ahead and kill himself. There’s no hope left for him. Those ten pounds might as well be a hundred. He’s _disgusting._ He doesn’t deserve anybody’s love.

                Whenever Levi finally comes home, Eren’s going to have to sit down and have a talk with him. Hanji and Petra, too, if they’re around - if they aren’t, though, that’s fine. He needs to settle things with Levi first. And if Levi arrives in much the same way as he’s _been_ walking through the door, with his eyes even darker than usual and his forehead wet with nervous sweat, Eren’s going to shove him down in a seat and slap him awake every time he dares to try falling asleep on him. Levi deserves better than Eren, but if Levi’s going to settle on this disgusting piece of shit, he might as well at least learn that Eren won’t put up with bullshit. Besides his own, of course.

                Eren trudges over to the sink, propping his elbows up on the edges and setting to work scrubbing the blade clear of his failure. He accidentally cuts his thumb on the end of the knife as he starts scrubbing the blood off of it - or maybe it’s _not_ an accident. It doesn’t matter. It _belongs_ shoved down his throat.

                Eren was doing so well. At least, that’s what Ymir kept telling him. Every time he went to visit her, she’d ask how he’s been doing, she’d ask about Levi, casual stuff like that. She’d ask him to tell her how much he’s been eating. Every week the list would grow bigger. She’d tell him, in her own subtle way, that she’s proud of him.

                She won’t be proud anymore, though. Eren can’t eat. He’s gained too much weight, falling into the bad habits of his friends. They eat like calories aren’t important. They eat shit day in and day out, not a care towards their health and towards their digestive system.

                It’s a wonder that anybody even tries to help Eren anymore. He’s a lost cause. He’s never going to be the same again. He’ll never be happy, he’ll never be able to wear comfortable shirts without hating himself, he’ll never be able to wear Levi’s clothing without fear of them being too tight on himself. He’ll never be able to eat without second guessing himself, he’ll never be able to sit down and enjoy a meal without wondering about calories and how much weight he’d lose if he snuck off to the bathroom and threw everything back up.

                Eren’s been put on several medications, all prescribed by Ymir and, to an extent, Krista. But they don’t work. One’s an antidepressant - it’s shit, obviously. If it worked, Eren wouldn’t even _be_ here. He’d be off painting rainbows on the sidewalk and prancing around like a unicorn. There’s another medication, he doesn’t even know what it’s for - he doesn’t bother taking it. It’s too big of a pill, and he feels sick every time he ingests it. He also has some sort of weird drink that tastes like literal shit that he’s supposed to ingest every morning, but Eren forgets to take it half the time, even though Levi reminds him of his medications every morning. He’s too afraid to check and see what the bottle says the liquid is for - he has a strong feeling that it’s going to say something like, “ _causes extreme weight gain,_ ” or “ _contains 10,000 calories._ ”

                Eren’s supposed to be going to a doctor, to make sure that his lack of eating hasn’t been hurting him in an irreversible way. But Eren hasn’t even tried to make an appointment. Ymir recommended him a certain doctor, but Eren didn’t bother listening. He’s not going to a damn hospital. He’s too ill. Whatever sickness has been brought about by his not eating is something that he needs to learn to live with. Eren’s never going to get better.

                Levi knows nothing about this, of course. Eren keeps a fairly large part of his therapy sessions secret. It’s nothing that Levi really needs to know. Most of it is shit that Levi _is_ aware of, anyways, whether he realizes it or not.

                Maybe he deserves the sneaking around that Levi’s been doing. He deserves it, because he himself hasn’t told Levi every little thing going on with his life.

                Eren deserves only the worst of things. He’s _useless._ Not worth anything. _Fat._ He can’t do anything right. He’s probably not even cleaning the bloodied knife the right way.

                Eren’s never going to be able to look at someone and truthfully reassure them that he’s fine. Because he’s _not_. He’s never been. He’ll never be.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “Do you really think he’ll like this one?”

                “Of course,” Petra squeezes Levi’s elbow, “Hanji said that he likes silver jewelry. Right, Hanji?”

                Hanji nods, staring down at the newly bought ring. Levi sidles up beside her, peering down at the ring as well - it’s nothing too fancy, a thin gray band with a single diamond in the middle. Hanji had done all of the research, in terms of finding out what Eren likes - she’d pulled him aside so many times, she’d taken him out on so many little adventures, she’d even tried disguising herself and handing Eren her own handmade surveys. Levi’s not sure if Eren’s ever caught onto her little game, but if he has, he says nothing. Hanji’s questions aren’t exactly subtle - Levi once overheard her asking Eren whether he likes extravagant proposals or small, humble ones. Eren didn’t seem to think too much of it, but it’s very possible that he now understands what’s going on. Levi has high hopes that he doesn’t, but Eren could very well just be pretending to be oblivious for Levi’s sake.

                “Even if he doesn’t like it,” Petra says, her fingers still tied around Levi’s arm, “So what? All that matters is that he loves you enough to say yes. Right?”

                “No,” Levi mutters, “All that matters is that I don’t fuck it up.”

                “Aw,” Hanji moans, “Is someone a little _nervous?_ ”

                Levi glares at her, holding open the door for her and Petra to leave ahead of him. They accept the offer, and Levi follows them out of the jewelry store they’d been in, eyes squinting even more than usual as he adjusts to the lack of lighting that the outside offers.

                With Hanji’s admittedly superb knowledge on Eren and engagement rings, she had been the one to pick out the jewelry. She’d also been the one to nearly talk Levi’s ear off about how amazing the wedding’s going to be, but Levi only bothered to listen to half of what she was saying. His nerves prevent him from thinking straight, and his fingers tremble for a reason other than the cold weather outside. They were just inside a jewelry shop, and Levi only feels slightly relieved now that he’s not inside such a place. Being surrounded by so many different ways to propose didn’t do his aging heart any justice.

                “Are you proposing _tonight?_ ” Petra asks, a step or two ahead of him.

                “The hell?” Levi says, a little too harsh for his intentions, “Fuck no. I _just_ got the ring.”

                “Why not?” Petra starts walking, signaling for Levi and Hanji to follow. Hanji’s close by, listening in and occasionally bumping sides with Levi.

                “Too soon.” Levi rubs his bare arms, vying for warmth - as much as he loves Eren, Eren really needs to stop taking all of his clothing and hiding it from him. It’s cute,though, how he always shows up to Levi wearing a shirt that’s much too big for him and shorts that, while are fairly tight on Levi, engulf Eren’s entire upper thigh section.

                Even if his clothing _weren’t_ so large on Eren, though, Levi’s certain that he’d still find Eren to be absolutely cute. Levi one time managed to get Eren to wear tight leggings around the house, and _fuck_ if he wasn’t the most precious thing ever. Eren’s attractive, whether he’s being swallowed by clothing several sizes too large or whether he’s being choked by clothing several sizes too small. There’s really no shape or size or form or position that Eren could get into and not be beautiful.

                “‘ _Too soon?’_ ” Petra raises her eyebrows, just barely able to be seen through the dimly lit streets, “You only have so much time left, Levi. Aren’t you, like, eighty years old?”

                “ _Screw_ you _._ ”

                “Maybe Levi’s right,” Hanji says, “I’d say give it a few more months before asking.”

                Levi cranes his head back, glancing up at Hanji. She, as always, is smiling. She’s also carrying the bag with Levi’s ring in it, swinging it around as if he hadn’t just paid thousands of dollars for the piece of shit.

                “Maybe,” Petra agrees, “Whether you do it now or later, though, I think he’ll say yes.”

                “How can you be so sure?” Levi asks, turning his head back around to look at Petra, who’s comfortably leading the way to wherever the hell they’re going. Eren’s probably back home now, and the thought makes Levi’s already anxious chest ache with a lust for when he’ll see him again. He feels a little empty, when he’s not beside Eren. He misses Eren’s rare but melodic laugh - Levi found out just recently, Eren’s incredibly ticklish. Especially on his stomach, in the area around his belly button - it’s fun, when Levi runs his fingers over Eren and earns a stifled giggle in response, only for said giggle to turn into full blown laughter as Levi viciously attacks him with his hands. Sometimes Eren tries to run away, which is when Levi suddenly feels really glad that he’s stronger than Eren - as Eren’s trying to crawl away, Levi will grab his hips and pull him back down to start tickling the other areas that are sensitive, like Eren’s lower back.

                He hasn’t had the chance to do much of that recently. The past few weeks have been stressful on Levi, for no reason other than the fact that he’s been worrying over the marriage proposal. He still doesn’t have any concrete plans yet, besides the fact of which ring he’ll give him. He doesn’t know, if he’ll do it tonight, or tomorrow, or in five years, or whether he’ll do it in bed or over breakfast or on his birthday - Levi’s afraid that he’ll just end up doing it whenever he’s capable of building up enough confidence. Which might never happen - half of the things that Levi does are done on a whim rather than through heavy thought.

                Choosing to propose to him _is_ one of those things - he’d decided it after admiring how beautiful Eren looks while sleeping, he’d decided it while mulling over how much he’d love to keep Eren in his bed for decades to come. He’s not about to back down from this idea, though. It might’ve been a sudden decision, but it’s one that he really feels as something that needs to happen.

                “Why wouldn’t he?” Petra smiles, “He loves you, doesn’t he?”

                “Doesn’t mean anything.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “He might still say no,” Levi averts his eyes, staring not at Petra anymore but now at the path that lies in front of them.

                “Are you really _that_ afraid?” she giggles, “If it helps, I can be there when you ask him.”

                “That doesn’t help at all.”

                “Maybe I could propose _for_ you?”

                “That’s even worse.”

                “What about the ring?” Hanji suddenly chimes in, “Where do we hide it?”

                Levi sighs, his eyes still pointed down. He can feel Hanji’s eyes boring into him expectantly, so he comes up with a fast plan to get her off his back.

                Levi rolls his head back, attempting to look more relaxed than he truly is. “When we get back, I’ll pull Eren aside into the kitchen and you two find a place to put it.” 

                “I’ll make sure to put it somewhere close to the ground,” Petra says, the smile evident in her voice, “So that you can reach it.”

                “ _Fuck_ you.”

                                                                                                             ~|~

                Everything’s cleaned up. The blade’s been scrubbed to perfection, Eren’s arm has been washed off - the cut blends in now, and unless Levi looks really closely, he won’t know that it’s recent - the floor’s been cleaned, and the counters have been cleared off. Eren’s even taken extra precautions to make sure that none of the remnants of his self-hatred are apparent - he’s switched out the shirt he was wearing and put on one of his older shirts, one of the shirts that doesn’t belong to Levi. It feels so _tight_ around him, constricting at the wrists and even worse around his belly.

                Those ten pounds really must’ve taken a toll on him.

                Only Ymir truly knows about Eren’s weight gain. She taken to weighing Eren every time he comes in, the scale courtesy of Krista. It’s probably - _definitely_ \- the worst part of the therapy sessions. He can lie all he wants to about how great he feels and how well he’s doing, but there’s no denying how much he weighs when she sets him on a scale and writes the number down.

                Eren sits down in the living room, counting down the seconds until Levi should be back. He might be there for five hours, he might only be there for five minutes, but he needs the time to collect his thoughts.

                He’s not sure whether he’ll tell Levi of his failure or not, or whether he’ll just save those words for Ymir, but either way, he feels like shit. He’d been doing _so well._ Everybody was praising him for his recovery. But, because Eren’s a little bitch who can’t control himself, he’s essentially just ruined three months of work. Three months of therapy, three months of holding himself back, three months of trying to love himself - _wasted._

                It’s no wonder people look away when Eren’s around. Eren spends so much time starving himself and avoiding mirrors, he hasn’t even bothered to try to fix his depressing face. There are, undoubtedly, still black lines under his eyes and his hair’s still falling out at an alarming rate, but admittedly, he _does_ look better than he did three months prior. At least, in terms of his face. His stomach’s a different story.

                Eren pulls his legs up, sitting crosslegged on one of the couches. His legs look thin, but Eren knows it must just be his imagination - he’s not thin anymore. He’s _ugly._ That’s why people stare at him when he goes out to eat. He’s the face of someone who needs to be avoided.

                Eren plays with the ends of pant legs, trying as hard as he can not to cry again. He’d tried to look nice tonight - he wore one of his nicer pairs of pants, black jeans that Mikasa used to compliment him on all of the time. He’s not sure whether she just did that as a conversation filler, or if she genuinely has a thing for Eren in black denim, but either way, she always knew how to make Eren feel a little good about himself.

                Eren got to see Mikasa again, just last weekend - she stayed the entire day, criticizing Levi’s choice in housing and clothing and hairstyles and, really, everything about him. Eren has a feeling that she really doesn’t dislike him as much as she tries to put out there, but she’s not willing to admit either way whether she thinks Levi’s good for Eren or not. She hasn’t, however, told Eren that he needs to leave Levi. Which is probably a good sign.

                Armin, on the other hand, Eren’s completely lost touch with. Along with Jean and Marco, Eren hasn’t bothered to try to talk to Armin ever since the incident with him three months ago. It’s not that Eren doesn’t like him, he’s just been too busy stressing over his own life and his everyday struggles, from waking up in the mornings and trying to find an outfit that doesn’t make him feel like a whale to sitting down and eating whatever dinner he’s managed to make for him and Levi. Eren suspects that it’s his dinners that have been making him gain all of this weight so quickly - Eren tends to have eyes bigger than his stomach, hence preparing quantities far too large for even someone like Levi, who probably needs millions of calories per day to supplement his beefy biceps, to devour in one sitting. Eren tries his best to eat as much as he can, if not to please himself, then to please Levi and Ymir and all of his other acquaintances.

                It feels like everyone’s against him. One moment, Petra’s shoving delectable slices of lemon bread under his nose, the next, her eyes are glazed over with disgust from how much he’s eaten. It’s like their expressions all change as soon as Eren realizes what he’s done - by the time that he’s just understood that he’s finished his third slice, he looks up and the once so cheerful gazes of his friends turn into undeniable loathing. Levi’s a bit harder to tell, since he’s perpetually in a state of squinted eyes and downturned lips, but everyone else is easier to interpret.

                Eren wraps his arms around himself, wrist still tingling from when he’s split it open. His chest is numb, and with it do his tear ducts feel strained, but he can’t say that he really wants to die. Lose weight? Yeah. A million times, yes. But _die_? Not so much.

                Eren feels like he’s going to throw up. It wouldn’t matter, if he did - he hasn’t eaten much at all yet today, and his stomach aches. Everything aches, really, but it’s most prominent in his lower gut and in his upper thighs. His ankles feel completely numbed under the weight of himself, but Eren’s too weak to try and fix the issue.

                There’s the faint sound of a door unlocking, and Eren’s not sure whether he should be happy about that or whether he should be sad. He can’t wait until he’s able to bury his head in Levi’s chest, but at the same time, he fears for when he’ll have to tell Levi what he’s been doing while he was gone. Levi likely won’t get mad at him, for skipping out on a therapy appointment, but there’s no way that Levi would be even remotely _joyful_ to hear the news.

                Eren hears the delightful laugh of, unmistakably, Hanji. Eren feels a little uplifted by this - Levi can’t be in too bad of a mood if he’s brought Hanji home. The past few weeks, he’s arrived home alone, and all he’s wanted to do is go to bed. With Hanji here, there’s no chance of catching up on any sleep. She probably talks in her sleep as much as she talks when she’s awake.

                Eren wills himself to stand up, taking slow and careful steps to greet Levi and Hanji at the door. Eren’s decided, he _will_ tell Levi about his accident. Not for his own benefit, but because he can’t expect Levi to stop being secretive if Eren, too, keeps a part of himself hidden from Levi. He might even tell Hanji about what happened, if she shuts up for long enough. Hanji’s his friend. At this point, though, Eren’s pretty much willing to call _everybody_ his friend. He’s so desperate.

                Much to his surprise, when Eren enters the hallway and looks out, there’s only Levi, looking back at him with considerably wide eyes and a hand still on the doorknob, door slightly open. Eren raises his eyebrows at him, and Levi’s eyes shift back and forth for only a brief moment before saying, “Eren?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Can I get you to go into the kitchen? I’ll be there in a second.”

                Eren, fearing the worst, nods gradually and inches his way into the kitchen. Levi looked a little distraught, which can’t be a good sign.

                Eren is such a _baby._ He shouldn’t have to be cared for like this. He shouldn’t be the reason that Levi’s not happy. He shouldn’t be the reason that _anybody_ feels responsible for him.

                Levi _does_ come into the room, hardly a moment having passed. Eren leans against the kitchen counter, placing himself right by the corner where he’d had a breakdown not too long ago. Levi moves over to stand across from him, not meeting his eyes but close enough so that there’s hardly an inch separating Levi’s beautifully bare biceps and Eren’s lesser loved limbs.

                Eren speaks first, wanting to know exactly why he’s been pulled aside into the kitchen. “So, what’s up, Levi?”

                “Hah- Ah, nothing,” Levi waves off, his eyes fixated on a point below Eren’s face. It feels like he’s staring at his shoulder, but there’s really nothing there for him to see. Eren squirms a bit under his watchful gaze.

                “Nothing?”

                “ _Nothing,_ ” Levi asserts, “Er, um, tell me about _your_ day. How were the therapists?”

                “Ymir and Krista? They, um,” Eren takes a deep breath, watching as Levi’s eyes only manage to stay on his for five seconds at a time, “I didn’t go see them.”

                “You didn’t go? Why not?”

                There’s a loud crash just outside the kitchen, and Eren, with furrowed eyebrows and a curious look spreading over his face, moves to go see what’s going on. Levi grabs his arm - Eren winces when Levi’s thumb pinches his freshest cut - and pulls him back aside, trapping him to the counter. Levi wraps his arms around Eren, dragging him into a very sudden and completely unexpected hug, hands clawing at Eren’s lower back and his head resting against Eren’s chest.

                “What-”

                “Why didn’t you go?” Levi asks, his voice slightly muffled from his mouth pressing against Eren’s shirt.

                “I didn’t feel good.” Not a lie, at all. Just not the full story.

                “Oh?” Levi starts rubbing his back, fingers massaging his sides and calming the roaring pain in Eren’s stomach. “Tell me about it.”

                Eren lets out a huff of air, shrugging it off. “It’s not that important.”

                “Mm. I’d still like to hear about it.”

                Eren debates whether he should go ahead and spill his guts, here and now, or until he’s certain that he won’t nearly explode if he opens his mouth. Which might never happen - Eren isn’t too fond of talking about his emotions. It makes him feel weaker than he already is, and he’s afraid that he’ll convey himself the wrong way if he uses the wrong words.

                “Uh,” Eren wraps his own arms around Levi, curling them around Levi’s neck, “Just, I think I’m getting sick, yeah?”

                “Sick?” Levi peers up at him, removing an arm to go up and feel Eren’s forehead. “You’re cold, though.”

                “Ah. Maybe it’s just a bad day, then.”

                “Maybe.”

                Eren takes a minute to compose himself, readying his heart and mind. Levi won’t be mad. He doesn’t ever truly get mad at Eren. Frustrated, sometimes, but he’s never _angry._ Not with Eren.

                “Levi?”

                “Yes, love?”

                “I hurt myself.”

                “Huh?”

                “I hurt myself,” Eren repeats, looking over Levi’s head to keep his confidence from diminishing so quickly.

                “What do you mean?”

                Levi pulls away from Eren, his hands just barely resting on Eren’s hips now. Eren forces himself to peer down into his eyes, and Levi looks so genuinely concerned. His eyebrows are pointed slightly downward, his mouth parted at the middle, his gray eyes light with concern.

                “Show me,” Levi says, his fingers tightening around Eren’s waist. Eren would wince - Levi has a habit of touching Eren in the exact same places every time, hence the bruises on his hips are being irritated - if he weren’t trying so hard to look unhurt.

                Eren, keeping his face as straight as he can, pulls his arms away from Levi’s neck and rolls his sleeve up. He uses his other hand to point out the new mark on himself, tracing over it to emphasize where he’d put it. Levi takes his arm into his own hands, inspecting it himself.

                Levi must think that he’s an attention whore. He is, though, isn’t he? Only attention whores cut themselves.

                Eren can’t believe he didn’t realize this earlier - _this_ is why people stare at him. It’s not so much because he’s ugly. It’s not because he weighs a ton. It’s because he’s a whiny bitch who needs attention. It’s because he’s willing to show off his arms, his grossly morphed skin that proves just how much he wants people to look at _him_. His scars are nothing more than a try at getting people to notice him. That’s why he’s hated so much. Everyone just assumes that he’s an attention hog rather than the idea that he might just be hurting inside.

                Eren shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t be letting Levi run his fingers over his new cut. He should’ve lied, said he was just feeling fine, that he didn’t hurt himself. Three months of recovery, all worth it, because Eren’s _fine._ He’s not ugly. He’s not a whore. He’s healing. He’s not constantly thinking about how useless he is. He’s not constantly trying to hold food down when he can _so easily_ throw it all back up. He’s not preoccupied with counting calories. He’s not tempted to hurt himself.

                Levi pushes himself up, kissing Eren on his jaw. Eren feels guilty - Levi looks _sad._ He shouldn’t be sad. Eren made him sad. Eren’s not worth the trouble.

                Eren uses his free hand - the one not being held by Levi - to pull Levi into another hug. He can’t bear to look at his face anymore. Not when Levi’s so obviously disappointed in him. Why wouldn’t he be? Even _Eren’s_ disappointed in himself.

                Eren buries his nose into Levi’s hair. Levi’s hands have moved from his exposed wrist, back to his hips, where he rubs up and down his waist, thumbs boring into his bones.

                “Eren,” Levi murmurs after several moments of absolute silence, “Close your eyes.”

                “Why?”

                “Just do it.”

                “But why?”

                Levi gives him a halfhearted glare. “I still have that blindfold, you know.”

                “What- Oh,” Eren halfheartedly rolls his eyes, remembering how Levi had covered his eyes in order to prevent Eren from seeing where they were going when he took him to his first therapy meeting. He’s only used the blindfold once since then - but the reason for that isn’t as innocent.

                “Close your eyes,” Levi repeats, his hands moving away from Eren’s hips to grab onto his upper thighs, gripping tightly onto Eren’s legs. His entire hand fits around the width of Eren’s thigh perfectly, only an inch or two separating his index finger and his thumb as he pulls Eren close.

                Eren reluctantly complies, closing his eyes as Levi lifts him off the ground. Levi, after a few steps in which he shifts until both he and Eren are comfortable, carries Eren off into wherever-the-hell-they’re-going. Eren, in a subtle attempt to prove that he’s not going to look, shoves his face in Levi’s chest, legs wrapping around Levi’s waist and arms to his neck. His face grows hot, the fabric of Levi’s thin top and his upper body stuffing Eren’s nose, but he doesn’t say anything. He’d rather be here, arms tied to Levi’s neck and head jammed into a crevice of Levi’s body rather than be in the kitchen, his self-harm on full display.

                Eren’s lowered into a seat - he recognizes it. It’s the one that he’d sat in before Levi dragged him away to therapy. Eren’s not a huge fan of this chair, despite how soft it is.

                There’s a hand placed over his eyes as soon as he sits down - it’s _definitely_ not Levi’s. Unless Levi’s started wearing flowery perfume.

                He can hear hurried whispers above him, and he fights to try and hear what they’re saying and who’s talking - it sounds like Petra, and she says something about a _surprise._ Levi’s easier to hear - his voice is significantly deeper than Petra’s, but unfortunately the things that he says in response to her nudging him about a surprise are little help towards Eren finding out what the issue is. Levi says nothing more than simple _no_ ’s and _maybe_ ’s.

                The hand leaves his face, and it’s all Eren can do not to open his eyes. He struggles to keep them shut, and he even goes so far as to put his _own_ hands over his eyes as a last minute attempt to shield himself. There’s very little noise around him, except for the clicking of what _has_ to be Petra’s heels against the floor. Then again, Levi might have started wearing heels. He _did_ look a little taller today. But that could’ve just been because Eren had his head down so low. It’s hard to stand up straight, when he’s so hungry and he’s so hurt.

                There are few moments where Eren doesn’t feel hungry anymore. They’re all usually after dinner, and the feeling usually only lasts for maybe an hour. Eren loves feeling full, but at the same time, he can’t stand it. Feeling hungry makes him feel like he’s losing weight. He’s not supposed to be losing weight, though. Everybody keeps telling him to eat more.

                There’s just no winning here. Sometimes, Eren's left wondering whether he's truly hungry, or if it's just his mind playing tricks on him. 

                “Open your eyes, mon avenir.”

                Eren’s caught onto a lot of Levi’s french phrases. He has a feeling that Levi’s forgetting a lot of the language, as he’s started using it less often, but Eren’s fine with that - he likes actually knowing what Levi’s saying to him. Most of what he says to Eren are just nicknames, but sometimes he recites full sentences to him. Which Eren never understands, and Levi only sometimes bothers to repeat in English for him.

                Eren opens his eyes. Levi’s standing in front of him, along with Petra and Hanji behind him, huddling close together. As if Eren couldn’t _possibly_ see them when they - two fair heighted women - hide behind Levi, who’s only just barely taller than Petra. His width makes up for his height to some extent, but not enough that someone like Hanji could effectively stray from view.

                “Uh, Levi?”

                “ _Hush,_ ” Levi barks. Eren shrinks back with a scowl, not liking where this is going. “I mean, just, don’t talk. Give me five minutes.”

                Eren crosses his arms, letting Levi prepare himself for whatever he’s about to do. Eren’s heart tells him that everything’s going to be fine, but his mind knows that it’s not. Levi’s angry, he must be, what with how he’s essentially just told Eren to shut the fuck up.

                Maybe Levi’s finally leaving him. He’s finally realized that Eren’s an attention whore, and he’s finally kicking Eren out of the house. It’s about time. Eren’s _useless._ Extra weight that’s just been dragging everyone down.

                “Uh. Eren,” Levi starts, his eyes pointed to the ground, “When I first met you- Actually, no. Let me start over.”

                Eren’s heart drops. Levi’s breaking up with him. Obviously. He should, too. Eren’s not worth the effort. And once Levi’s gone, all Eren will have left is Ymir and her girlfriend, and he’ll be forced to go out and make new friends, and then what? They’ll leave him, too, when they figure out that he’s just a _whore,_ vying for constant attention _._

                “You make me-” Levi stops himself, “Uh. No. You’re, er-”

                “Spit it out, Levi,” Petra mutters, nudging his shoulder.

                “Ah, Eren,” Levi says, a brief burst of confidence that quickly dwindles, “You have a nice ass. I mean, that’s not what I meant to say- Your eyes. That’s what I was going to say.”

                “Levi,” Eren says, his chest aching with dread, “Can you just get to the point?”

                If Levi’s going to leave him, Eren would rather not hear the rant on how horrible of a boyfriend that he’s been.

                “Right,” Levi nods, reaching a hand back and grabbing a bag from Hanji. He fumbles with it, nearly dropping it twice, before ramming a hand inside and grabbing what awaits him. He hesitates, not pulling it out just yet. “Eren?”

                “Yes, _mon avenue?_ ”

                “ _Avenir_ , babe. You- uh- I love you, Eren.”

                “I love you, too, Levi.”

                “Great. That’s great. Good. Super good. You, um, that’s not- I mean, it is- Except, no-”

                Eren sighs, sending Levi an impatient look. Petra looks just as nervous as he does, standing behind Levi, though Hanji’s a completely different story. She’s giggling, a hand held over her mouth and legs crossed like she’s about to piss herself.

                Eren, although a part of him is telling him that Levi’s _not_ about to break up with him, that his demeanor isn’t that of someone who loathes the guy before him, Eren still feels worthless. He’s always felt a little worthless. Eren’s afraid that he’ll never know what it’s like to _not_ feel pathetic.

                “Fuck it. Eren?” Levi says, “I love you, and it hurts me when you’re sad, and I had a speech written out for you in my head but I’ve forgotten half of it.”

                Levi pulls out a small box, a velvety black that’s just large enough to fill his palm. He takes a step closer to Eren, holding out the gift for him and motioning for Eren to open it. Levi’s just close enough for Eren to see that he is, in fact, sweating. The ends of his dark hair stick to the skin beside his ears, and if Eren stays silent enough, he can hear Levi’s breathes come out like a panting dog.

                Eren, as if Levi’s feelings are reflected back into him, feels his heart rate increase as well. He knows exactly what’s going on now, and as he delicately opens the black box put before him and discovers a small ring inside, Eren’s suspicions are confirmed all at once.

                “Veux-tu m'épouser?” Levi asks, letting go of the box so that Eren may hold it. He steps back, wiping his forehead. His face looks as neutral as ever, but pretty much every other part of him betrays the fact that he must be incredibly nervous.

                Eren doesn’t even need a dictionary to know what Levi’s just asked him. He tries to sort through his memories to see if he can remember how to say _yes_ in Levi’s apparently very loved language, but every time he and Levi have ever gotten intimate enough for Eren to pick up on the pronunciations and specific words, he’d been too focused on admiring Levi and the way he feels to memorize what he’d been saying.

                “Are you asking me to marry you?” Eren asks, as if he needs confirmation.

                “Only if you say yes.”

                Eren smiles. “Sí, señor. I’ll marry you.”

                “That’s Spanish, Eren.”

                “What, really?”

                Petra, who looks like she’s about to cry, sidles up beside Hanji and tugs on her collar. She turns her head back briefly to say, “We’re leaving, Levi. Thought maybe you two would want to be alone, yeah? We’ll be back in the morning.”

                “ _Early_ in the morning,” Hanji says, “Like, four in the morning.”

                Levi nods, and Eren musters all of the leftover strength in his body to wave at them as they go. Admittedly, Levi’s proposal makes him _ecstatic_ \- every and all doubt that he’s had about Levi’s love for him has disappeared now that they’re going to get married. He’d thought that maybe Levi was growing distant because he was growing bored with Eren. Eren couldn’t be happier, to discover that it’s actually the exact opposite.

                That doesn’t stop a part of him, a sneaky part of him that shows it’s head at the worst of times, from telling him that, no, he’s not special. Levi’s making a mistake by marrying him. Eren should’ve said no and spared Levi the suffering. They’re probably going to divorce sooner or later, anyways, if they even get that far in their relationship.

                He shouldn’t be thinking like that, not right now, when he’s about to celebrate his upcoming marriage. He _shouldn’t_ be, but he _is._

                Levi stoops down and scoops Eren up in his arms, carrying him away bridal style up the stairs. He has one hand on Eren’s thighs and another on his upper back, seemingly no struggle as he hefts Eren’s weight up each individual step.

                Levi’s _strong,_ Eren’s fully aware of that. But if Eren keeps gaining weight, what if he reaches a point where Levi won’t be able to carry him anymore? What if he reaches a point where he can’t wear Levi’s clothing anymore?

                Eren’s never going to be healthy. He thought that recovery was going to be linear. He thought that maybe, while it would be painfully slow, it wouldn’t fluctuate like _this._ Three months in, and the thoughts of how much he hates himself are already creeping back into him.

                Levi pushes open the door to their bedroom, gingerly setting Eren down on their bed. He climbs on top of him, trapping Eren to the mattress with his elbows at either side of his head and legs at either side of Eren’s waist. He presses their lips together, momentarily drawing Eren away from any thoughts rushing through his mind. Eren plays along, moving his head in motion with Levi’s, teasing him with a tongue to his lips and hands to Levi’s damp hair. He must’ve been _incredibly_ nervous, more so than he let on - his hair is _soaked._

                “Levi?” Eren murmurs between breaths.

                “Yes, mon bonheur?”

                “I’m sorry?”

                “My happiness.”

                “Mm,” Eren presses a hard kiss to his lips, arms tightening around Levi’s neck as the blush increases across his face, “I’m sorry.”

                “For what?”

                “You know,” Eren whispers, carding his fingers through wet, black hair, smoothing it back, “For hurting myself.”

                “Ah, the cut?”

                “Mhm.”

                “Eren,” Levi sighs with a long, motionless kiss to Eren’s mouth, “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “You made a mistake,” Levi purrs, moving over to kiss down his neck, “It’s fine. You can’t be perfect.”

                “But, I mean, it’s been three months since the last time I cut myself,” Eren says, twirling his fingers around in Levi’s hair. One hand moves to grip onto Levi’s shoulder tightly, while the one closest to Levi’s head continues to play with the ends of his raven locks. Levi’s still using his elbows to prop himself up, but he pushes his lower half down, rubbing his now very obviously hard cock against Eren’s clothed length. Levi seems to have a thing for Eren simply being in bed, because Eren’s not sure if he’s ever spooned with Levi and not felt a stiff dick on his backside. For an old guy, he’s got a pretty active sex drive.

                “That’s good, isn’t it?” Levi attaches his lips just below Eren’s ear, his hips bearing down and weighing heavily on Eren’s body as he gently grazes his teeth over Eren’s skin. Every touch from Levi sends sensations down his spine, and it’s almost his body acting on its own will when he bucks up and starts grinding alongside Levi, gasping in response to Levi’s low grunts.

                Eren forces himself to speak again, trying not to get too lost in Levi’s movements. “I - _ngh_ \- But I failed, didn’t I?”

                “Hah?”

                “I’m not supposed to hurt myself.”

                “Doesn’t mean you failed, my prince. Just means that you need to find another way to distract yourself, doesn’t it?”

                Eren doesn’t respond immediately - he can’t, seeing as how Levi’s removed one of his arms from beside Eren and is now trailing his fingers up Eren’s shirt. His fingers trace over the contours of Eren’s stomach, over his navel and across his ribs before settling back on his hips. Levi’s nails dig into the same spot that they always do, undoing any sort of healing that the past indents and bruises might have been doing.

                Levi moves his other hand down to mirror himself, now gripping onto Eren’s waist tightly. He pulls Eren up, increasing the friction against their lower halves, his grunts growing louder against Eren’s ear.

                “How, uh, would I distract myself?” Eren asks. As much as he loves the attention that he’s getting from Levi, and as much as he loves the little ring that’s been tossed aside to lie on a lonesome pillow, there _are_ more pressing matters at hand. If Eren’s allowed to say that his mental health is more important than Levi’s dick, that is.

                “Mm,” Levi hums against Eren’s skin, peppering him with soft kisses over his jaw, “I don’t know. How about this? You come with me to work tomorrow and we’ll figure it out then.”

                “Huh.” Eren considers this for only a second before nodding and saying, “I’d like that.”

                “Perfect,” Levi breathes. Eren can feel his smirk against his neck, and it’s too late when he realizes what Levi’s about to do - he feels his fingers shift away from his hips and over to his stomach, and only a second is spared to Eren before he’s viciously mauled with tickles.

                Eren ruins the tranquility of the room with his outburst of laughter, squirming under Levi in an attempt to get away. Levi presses a knee to Eren’s upper thigh and pins one of his arms to the mattress, preventing any sort of escape. If Eren had eaten more than two slices of bread today, he might actually have the energy to fight back - but his will dwindles away and he tires out quickly, despite the torture that Levi’s inflicting on his tummy. His arm, the one being held down by Levi, feels numb from his shoulder up, and his thigh burns as Levi’s leg presses into the scars and bones of his body.

                “Levi, _stop_ ,” Eren forces out. He feels like shit. He shouldn’t have to stop Levi. He should be able to play along, he shouldn’t feel so weak that he needs a rest in the midst of their play session.

                Eren _is_ shit. And no matter how many rings Levi buys him, he’ll always _be_ shit. If Eren hadn’t moved in with Jean all those years ago, he might never have realized what a piece of garbage he really is. Ymir can’t help him, Krista can’t help him, Levi and all his friends can’t help him, because Eren knows the truth. Anything that they say to counter what he thinks is bullshit, because Eren’s always going to be _worthless._ All he can do about it, though, is decide whether he wants to end his life, whether he wants to draw unneeded attention to himself, or whether he just wants to pretend like he doesn’t even exist. Option one causes pain on his friends part, option two causes pain on his _own_ part and annoyance in his acquaintances, and the final option might just kill him, which leads back into option one.

                There’s no way to win. Eren let himself become shit, and now he has to live with it for the rest of his life, however long that might be. And now, all of his friends have to live with it, too, because he’s dragged them into it.

                Levi halts, above Eren, concern etching itself onto his otherwise stoic features. He raises his hands off of Eren, and he crawls away, going to lie beside Eren rather than hover above him. His cock’s still incredibly hard - Eren can feel it where it presses against his hip as Levi pulls Eren into a tight hug - and Eren feels guilty for doing this to him. He should’ve just let Levi have his fun. And if Eren passed out from exhaustion within the first five minutes, then that’s just too bad. At least Levi would be happy.

                Why does Levi want to screw him, anyways? Eren's nothing more than a sack of bones that fluctuates from being happy and eating enough food to fuel a whale to being depressed and wanting to put a blade to his skin. His body is _hideous._ It's tainted with starvation and too many scars to count, anybody who sees him unclothed should recoil and want to bleach out their eyes. Levi, though, he acts like he loves seeing Eren naked. He acts like he loves his disfigured hips and his ugly thighs. He acts like he loves Eren despite all of his flaws and all of his imperfections.

                Eren twists himself around, facing Levi now and intertwining their legs. Levi's an inch higher on the bed, forcing Eren to look up at him in their position. Levi curls his arms around Eren's neck, murmuring something to him that Eren doesn't understand. It's a fairly long speech, and he pauses several times to think, but Eren doesn't interrupt him. He just presses his ear to Levi's chest and synchronizes their breathing, arms around Levi's waist. Levi's hard-on is still pressing against Eren's lower stomach, but Eren would hate to break the news that they're probably not going to go anywhere with this tonight.

                But, then again, Eren's not exactly flaccid right now, either. Maybe they _will_ go that far. Eren's not sure if he's going to be okay, staying awake a little longer rather than falling asleep right now as Levi whispers congested French words to him from above, but he's willing to do anything to make himself feel useful for something. The last thing he wants is for his closest friends to realize what a sick person he truly is. What an _attention whore_ he truly is.

                Eren loathes what he's become. Even though he's in therapy, even though he has Ymir to keep him in check, he still feels like he's hardly making progress. Sure, he's gained ten pounds. He's also managed three months without any serious cutting. And he _does_ try to force himself to eat, no matter how much he wants to throw it all back up before it's even down.

                But Eren still feels hungry often. He sometimes has to ask people to repeat things, because he's too distracted by his pained stomach.

                Eren still has the urge to cut himself. As proven by several hours ago, when he'd given into the temptation that shouldn't even be there in the first place.

                Eren's _disgusting._ He looks and feels it, and he-

                "Eren, babe? Are you listening?"

                Eren peers up at Levi, trying his best to look anything but sad. His legs are weak, and so are his arms, but he wills himself to give Levi a small smile. _Don't be an attention whore._

                Why is Eren even _doing_ this? The spotlight should be on Levi tonight. Levi's the one who worked up all of his courage to propose. Eren should be catering to his every whim tonight, whether it be as simple as preparing him a glass of water or a bit more strenuous, like changing every light bulb in the house. Levi deserves to be treated like a prince. Proposing isn't an easy thing to do, and he was _drenched_ from all of the sweat brought about his decision.

                Eren, ignoring the depressing look on Levi's face, pushes himself up. With trembling fingers, he sits over to the side and starts tearing his shirt off, fabric sliding through nervous palms.

                "Your cock," Eren breathes, struggling to get the collar over his big head, "Pull it out."

                "Hah?"

                "I want you to fuck me."

                Eren looks over, having finally pulled his shirt off, and Levi looks surprised. Eren makes a move toward him, and Levi places one of his stunningly pale hands on Eren's now-bare shoulder.

                "Eren, don’t do this.”

                “Why?” Eren tries to pry Levi’s hand from his shoulder, but not only is Levi incredibly strong, but Eren’s also incredibly fatigued.

                “If it isn’t what you want,” Levi says, sitting up, “Then don’t force yourself to do anything.”

                “But, this is what _you_ want, isn’t it?”

                Levi stares at Eren for a second, before letting go of his shoulder and slumping back. “That doesn’t mean you have to give in. Don’t do anything that you don’t feel like doing.”

                “I want to do this,” Eren says, making another move toward Levi.

                “No, you don’t. Go to sleep.”

                “How do you know that I don’t?”

                “You’re a shit liar. _Sleep,_ Eren.”

                Eren pouts, but he lies down next to Levi again, his shirt lost somewhere behind him. The ring box falls off the bed when Eren’s head hits the mattress, but Eren can’t bring himself to grab it off of the floor. Once he hits the sheets, his previously numbed arm loses feeling again and his legs stiffen.

                Levi inches over until he’s right by Eren, and he wraps his arm over his shoulder. Eren leans his head into the crook of Levi’s neck, a mixture of regret and absolute love flooding through his every vein.

                “Eren?”

                “Mm?”

                “Can I see your arms, again?”

                Eren doesn’t question him. He holds up an arm for Levi, the one that he hadn’t cut earlier that day. Levi smoothes his fingers over the skin, tickling what isn’t scarred and caressing what is. He then reaches over and curls his fingers around Eren’s other arm, pulling it close and hugging Eren as tightly as their position will allow. It hurts Eren’s already sore shoulders, but he likes it.

                “Why did you hurt yourself, Eren?” Levi murmurs, kissing Eren’s ear.

                “What?”

                “Today. Why did you cut yourself?”

                “I- Uh, I felt bad. You know. Like I wanted to die.”

                “Why?”

                “I felt ugly. And unwanted.”

                Levi doesn’t respond, so Eren continues.

                “Ever since I’ve started going to see Ymir, I’ve gained weight. Ten pounds.”

                “So?”

                “ _So?_ Ten pounds is a lot, Levi.”

                “Doesn’t make you any less beautiful.”

                Eren takes his arms away from Levi, holding them to his chest, hiding the scars away from view. Levi doesn’t say anything about it, and Eren hides himself in Levi’s neck to avoid having to see the look on his face.

                “My cuts are ugly, Levi.”

                “They are. _You’re_ not ugly, though.”

                “Huh?”

                “Every cut is a time you felt hurt, right? That’s shit. But _you,_ my love, are as beautiful as can be, despite all of the times that you’ve felt hurt.”

                Eren’s face burns. His cheeks are flushed, undoubtedly, the brightest pink imaginable. He wraps his arms around Levi’s waist, kissing his neck. “I love you, Levi.”

                “I love you, too. Now go to sleep, Eren. We’ll talk about this some more in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I made a new tumblr, if anyone wants to follow it? jaegerkisses.tumblr.com


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi gets his priorities straightened out.

                Eren sits across the room, in the exact same spot that Levi remembers seeing him at when they first met. Levi can’t remember what position Eren was in, but he imagines it must’ve been similar to what he’s doing now - his chin’s being propped up by his hand, and he’s staring out the window, awaiting the moment when Levi will return to him. The morning light that shines through the glass hits his face just right, highlighting the tan of his skin. Levi’s afraid that if he looks away for even a second, he’ll miss the opportunity to admire Eren’s gorgeous features under such nice conditions.

                It’s times like this where Levi desperately wishes he owned a camera. Hanji might have one, but if he tells her the reason why he’d want to borrow it, she’d never let him live it down. She’d be the reason that he gets the picture framed and hung on every square inch of his bedroom.

                Eren’s long, thin fingers wrap around the top of his drink, which lies merely an inch or two away from his elbow. He’s picked up Levi’s habit of holding his drink from the lid rather than from the handle or the body, though Eren’s _far_ more clumsy at it than Levi is. Levi’s not even sure if Eren realizes exactly what he’s doing, or if the realization even hits him after the glass is shattered due to his lack of grip, but it’s cute. Nearly everything Eren does is cute.

                Eren chose to wear long sleeves today. Levi didn’t say anything, but it bothers him - not so much because Eren’s clearly trying to hide his arms, but more so because it’s considerably hot outside. Eren could get a heatstroke. Levi doesn’t like seeing Eren hurt.

                His pants, too, are warm for the weather outside. He has on long, dark jeans, tight at his thighs but noticeably loose at his ankles. Levi has a feeling that, give him ten or twenty more pounds, he’ll fit perfectly into those jeans, hips wide enough to wear them without a belt and calves the definition of _sexy_ and long. If Eren’s beautiful now, he’d be drop dead stunning in clothing that fits him just right. He'd be irresistible, at a healthy weight with a healthy mind.

                Levi wipes his chin. For someone who admires the art of cleanliness, he’s apparently a victim to drooling when it comes to Eren.

                “Levi?” Hanji asks, her voice coming up to him from behind. He turns his head, and she’s looking over at him. She looks significantly taller than usual, but that could just be because Levi, who’s already unfortunately shorter than Hanji, is leaning forward onto a counter. “What’s wrong?”

                “Nothing,” he sighs, “Just waiting on Erwin.”

                “For?”

                “He’s supposed to be making breakfast for Eren and I. But, you know,” Levi looks away from her, “He moves as slow as shit.”

                “Do you want me to go kick his butt for you?”

                “If it makes him move faster, then yes.”

                Levi doesn’t look to see if he’s right, but he’s willing to bet that she’s smiling as wide as she can as she walks into the kitchen behind them, the door making little noise as it opens and closes. Levi wishes he could say that he definitely _doesn’t_ hear her yelling at Erwin as soon as the door is shut behind her, but fuck if the entire continent doesn’t hear her. It’s not an angry yell, but it’s more so her odd way of encouraging Erwin to move quicker by telling him of Eren’s assumed need for nourishment and Levi’s impatience.

                Eren’s impossibly beautiful. Even when he’s not trying to be, like right now - he takes small drinks from his glass, eyes shifting from staring at the ice cubes to staring out the window. His sleeves cover a good portion of his hands, and the sweater he’s wearing nearly engulfs his entire abdomen. Levi’s pretty sure that it’s not _his_ shirt, so it must be one of Eren’s. It’s only been a few days, but he misses seeing Eren in his clothing - Eren with Levi’s boxers low on his hips and one of his dress shirts lazily buttoned up, or Eren with one of Levi’s white t-shirts on and a pair of his pants below, maybe low enough on his waist that Levi can see the dimples on his lower back and a taunting sliver of skin just above his crotch - it really just makes Levi want to run off to the nearest florist and request their largest bouquet of roses, all for his beautiful, lithe lover. Levi would give anything to see Eren smile his best smile, and maybe he'd wrap his arms around Levi as he takes the flowers from him. Maybe he'd kiss him up and down, a genuine admiration shining in his green irises.

                Levi catches Eren’s eye, and his heart nearly freezes in his chest when Eren gives him a small grin. Erwin better hurry up with their meal, Levi’s not sure if he can handle being this far away from Eren for much longer. He needs to see Eren’s face up close, he needs to be able to reach out and thread his fingers through brown hair and feel tan skin under his thumbs.

                Levi hears Hanji poke her head out of the kitchen door, and she says to him, “Erwin says it’ll be five more minutes, Levi.”

                Levi nods. Five more minutes until he’ll be faced with perfection. What was Erwin even supposed to be cooking them? Levi doesn’t remember. Whatever it is, it better make Levi cry from how amazing it tastes, what with how long it’s taking. At the very least, Levi just hopes that Erwin doesn’t get any of his eyebrow hairs stuck in the food.

                Eren doesn’t look away from Levi, still sitting across the room, his hand pressed to his cheek while the other hand plays idly with his glass. It’s still nearly full, Eren’s only had maybe a fourth of it thus far. It’s water.

                It aches Levi, to know that Eren feels _so_ bad about himself. He’s gained ten pounds. That’s a _good_ thing, isn’t it? But it hurts Eren. Levi feels ashamed for not having noticed earlier, how pained Eren still is. When Eren was getting dressed this morning, Levi couldn’t possibly miss the way that he lingered in front of the mirror longer than necessary. Eren stood there without a shirt on for more time than he needed to. And once a shirt was put on, Levi - who was drying himself off after a shower - noticed that Eren would fondle the ends of his sweater until it fit him the way he wanted it to, worn in such a way that the fabric wouldn’t stick to his stomach nor his chest, a subtle way to make the shirt hide his body but not make him look like he’s holding extra pounds.

                Levi wanted to go up to Eren then and hug him and tell him that, no, he’s _beautiful_ and he shouldn’t feel so insecure, and who gives a shit if he looks overweight? He’d still be attractive. Levi has yet to see a single moment in which Eren wasn’t gorgeous. Eren's gorgeous on the _inside,_ and that's all that matters.

                Eren has such a sad smile painted across his face right now. He waves at Levi, his smile fading when Levi doesn’t wave back.

                Levi misses Eren’s genuine smiles. It’s been so long since he’s seen one. He wants to see a smile that lights up Eren’s wide eyes. Not one that emphasizes the dull color that’s trapped inside his abused irises.

                Levi only vaguely recognizes when there’s a plate being shoved into his arms by none other than Hanji, a plate full of bacon and waffles, because who the hell wants to be healthy, right? It’s no wonder it took so long, though, Erwin apparently decided that it was about time to cause a worldwide shortage of pork.

                Levi takes the few steps over to where Eren sits, and he places himself in the seat across from him, setting the food between them. Eren eyes it, but he doesn’t delve into it like any other college-aged person would. All he does is look at it, then peer up at Levi with his killer green eyes, eyes that make Levi’s heart skip a beat as he looks into their despairing gaze.

                Eren removes his hand from around his glass of water, and he holds it out for Levi to take. Levi doesn’t hesitate to move his own arm out and clutch onto Eren’s hand, interlocking their fingers and playing idly with the sleeve of his sweater. It falls down just low enough for one of the scars on his arm to peek out.

                “Mm, Levi,” Eren murmurs, moving his eyes away from the plate in front of him to watch their intertwined hands as they wave about, back and forth, absentmindedly.

                After Levi had dried himself off from his shower in the morning, he had pulled Eren away from the mirror just long enough to ask if he wanted Levi to fix his hair up for him. Eren agreed, and he sat down and waited while Levi brushed his uneven, chestnut locks until they were untangled. He then tried  to experiment with Eren’s hair to see what he could do with it - he tried tossing it all to one side, but half of the strands of his hair ended up falling back into their original places within seconds. He then tried to pull Eren’s hair back, to see if he could get it slick like Levi had done his when he visited Eren all that time ago with flowers. Eren’s hair doesn’t seem to like being played with, though.

                Right now, Eren’s hair is much the same as it always is. Levi gave up trying to be unique with it once Eren started complaining about Levi pulling too hard on his head. Eren's hair is fluffy, it's soft, and Levi can't get enough of it. Even now, he wishes for his fingers to be tied in those comforting strands. He would put them there, too, if it weren’t for the fact that Eren’s hand is _also_ incredibly soft, and he’s not exactly tall enough to be able to reach over and touch Eren’s face without having to lean his entire body forward.

                “Levi?”

                “Yes, my love?”

                “What were you telling me last night?”

                “When?”

                “When we were hugging. After it, I started telling you why I cut myself.”

                Levi thinks for a moment, trying to recall. He’d tried reassuring Eren of his perfection, then he’d tried to tickle his lover - which, his scrunched nose and parted lips were probably two of the cutest things to have ever touched this planet - and then, what? He pulled Eren into his arms, and then he-        

                “I was trying to tell you how much I love you,” Levi sighs, “It’s easier to do it in another language. I meant to tell you it all when I asked you to marry me, but it’s, ah, it’s not that easy, you know?”

                Eren nods, looking a little surprised.

                “I’ll be honest,” Levi says, “I’m forgetting how to speak French. So half of what I told you was probably shit, anyways.”

                Eren laughs at that, and Levi tightens his hold on his fingers. It’s refreshing, to hear his voice so happy, even if it’s at Levi’s expense.

                Levi looks down at their hands, and he spots Eren’s ring. He’s wearing it on the third finger of his left hand - it’s a plain gray, almost dull in comparison to Eren’s shining skin. It certainly stands out, silver against a golden tan, and suddenly Levi wishes he’d bought something a tad more extravagant. Anything to prove to everybody else that, yes, Eren belongs to Levi and not another soul is allowed to touch him.

                “Je suis beau,” Eren murmurs, following Levi’s eyes down to the ring on his finger, “Tu es beau.”

                Levi smirks, untying their hands from each other and moving his index and middle fingers down to play with the ring. Eren lets him, spreading his thin limbs out for Levi to have better access as he twists the ring around, finger running over the little diamond and pulling at the band.

                Eren is beautiful. _Levi_ is beautiful.

                The ring is nowhere near as stunning as Eren is. Eren puts the ring to shame.

                “Hungry?” Levi asks, shifting his attention back to Eren.

                “A little.”

                “Do you want to eat?”

                “Only if you’ll feed me.”

                Levi lets out an amused huff of air, and he grabs a fork off of the plate and starts to use it to cut a bit off of one of the waffles. It’s a small piece, and it’s dry as fuck due to the syrup not reaching that specific corner, but he still lifts it up and holds it out for Eren. Eren leans forward, and within seconds, the fork is empty and Eren’s watching Levi with a face that could kill even the cutest of puppies. He chews slowly, his jaw moving up and down as the bite of food affects every part of him - the hesitation to eat is clear in his face, as he cringes when the waffle slides down his throat.

                Levi’s tried to get Eren to eat healthier things, but all Eren ever seems to want is sugar. It worries Levi, because Eren could essentially just drop dead at any moment - he’s very clearly not getting the nutrients he needs from his diet, and he’s hardly getting enough calories, despite the supposed ten pounds that he’s gained. Levi almost wants to cry, thinking about his beautiful lover going to sleep one night and never waking up again. He can’t handle that. Eren, who so often hugs him and so often kisses him, Eren who likes to wear Levi’s clothing, Eren who’s as sweet as the things he eats - dead, because Levi’s too pathetic to give him the help that he needs.

                Levi can’t live with himself if Eren doesn’t get better. There’s an ache in his heart, just thinking about it. Eren needs to be happy. Levi wants to see his eyes light up, Levi wants to see him join Hanji in an escapade to buy a wedding cake.

                What if they never even _reach_ their wedding day? What if this is all for nothing, because Eren’s going to end up dead, anyways? Levi just wants him to be happy. That’s all. He wants him healthy and with a smile on his face. Is that really too much to ask for?

                “Eren?” Levi murmurs, holding up another forkful for Eren to take.

                “Mhm?” Eren says, biting onto the waffle and hardly chewing before swallowing.

                “I think you need extra help.”

                “Extra help?” Eren knits his eyebrows together, “What?”

                “Like, a nutritionist or something. Someone who can make sure you’re eating enough of the right things.”

                Eren stares at Levi for a moment, then starts adamantly shaking his head. “No, no, that’s not necessary, I’m eating fine, yeah? Just look at our plate, it’s, uh, meat. There’s protein. And waffles, that’s grain, right? I think.”

                Levi listens, but it’s obvious that Eren just doesn’t want to go through with this idea. “Eren, you need this.”

                “No, I don’t.”

                “Yes, you do.”

                “No, I fucking don’t.” Eren glares at Levi, his green eyes almost blue, clouded with his stubbornness and his loathing toward the very idea of having to eat the right amount of food.

                “ _Yes,_ you fucking do. Have you _seen_ yourself, Eren? You’re not healthy.”

                “Don’t tell me what I look like,” Eren growls, tears evident in his eyes, “You fucking _bastard._ I know what I look like. I don’t need you to tell me that.”

                “Eren, I’m not trying to-”

                “ _Go fuck yourself,_ ” Eren barks, his eyes flooding and water pouring down his cheeks. “I try _so_ hard for _you_ , and _this_ is what you say to me? I thought you _loved_ me.”

                “I do, Eren, please-”

                “You wouldn’t even fucking _care_ , would you? If I went and killed myself, right now, you wouldn’t give a shit, because all you’ve ever cared about is _yourself_ and how _beautiful_ you _want_ me to be. Open your fucking eyes, Levi, I’m not beautiful. I’m fucking hideous.”

                “Listen to me, love, you’re _not_ hideous, just give me-”

                “No,” Eren wipes a sleeve over one of his cheeks, “ _Damn_ it, Levi, what the hell is this to you? Who the hell do you think you _are_? You can’t just try to _fix_ me. I’m supposed to be _dead_ right now.”

                Levi tries to keep himself composed, but he can’t. It hurts too much, to know that _these_ are the feelings that Eren’s been harboring inside himself for so long, that _this_ is the way that he’s been feeling all this time.

                “Eren?”

                “Shut the fuck up. I’m _done_ , Levi. I’m tired of living.”

                “Eren, don’t say that.”

                “Why not?”

                Levi’s trying his absolute hardest not to breakdown right now. Eren, his beautiful eyes and his gorgeous hair and his paling skin and his small smiles, wants to _die._ Levi should’ve done more. He should’ve done so, _so_ much more, because he could’ve prevented this. He could’ve been holding hands with someone happy right now, but that’s not the case. Levi’s a dick who thought that he could help Eren himself. Taking him to therapy was just so that he could feel like he was doing something right. But Levi’s _selfish._ Eren’s crying, sobbing in fact, and it’s all Levi’s fault. He wasn’t trusting enough, and so Eren felt the need to hold this back until now, when it all comes pouring out.

                “Eren-”

                “No. _No_ ,” Eren stands up, his face wet and muscles visibly shaking, “Go fuck yourself, Levi.”

                Levi follows him, standing up and gripping his arm to hold him back. He will _not_ let Eren go kill himself. Not now, not ever.

                “ _Let go,_ ” Eren shouts at him, struggling with all his force to push Levi off. Levi won’t be having any of that, though. There’s a reason he works out nearly half the week.

                “I love you, Eren, please talk to me-”

                “I _am_ talking to you, but you _won’t listen._ There’s no hope for me, Levi. This was going to happen sooner or later.”

                “It _doesn’t_ have to happen, though,” Levi counters, trying to pull Eren back down into his seat. Eren doesn't go down so easily, though.

                Hanji comes running up to them, her eyes wide and mouth open. “Eren? Eren, are you-”

                “You, too,” Eren barks, “ _Fuck yourself._ ”

                Eren pulls his leg up, and he kicks Levi right in the jaw, using his brief moment of shock as his escape. His kick didn’t even hurt, but it wasn’t expected - Levi tries to recover as soon as he can, because there’s no way in hell that he’s letting Eren _die_.

                Levi straightens himself up, shoving Hanji out of the way and grabbing Eren once more. Eren lets out a loud cry, his legs buckling underneath him as he falls to the ground, Levi landing on top of him. Someone - undoubtedly a customer, Levi doesn’t recognize the voice - shouts something stupid about calling the police, but Levi ignores them. He wraps his arms around Eren’s chest, and Eren falls limp in his grasp as Levi picks him up and carries him away into the kitchen. Levi's chest twists with the fact that Eren’s already just _given up_ \- he’s so done with living that he’s allowing Levi to whisk him away without another cry.

                Erwin doesn’t even notice Levi enter the kitchen. He’s too busy, off to the side, trying to prevent a pot from boiling over.

                “ _Eyebrows_ ,” Levi calls, pulling Eren over and setting him down on the floor by the door, “Get your shitty ass _over here._ ”

                Eren covers his face with his sleeves, curling up into a ball by Levi. Their engagement ring pokes out on his finger, reminding Levi that, yes, Eren still loves him. He’s just not in the right state of mind right now, and Levi has to help him. Eren can’t kill himself. Eren’s too beautiful for this world. He shouldn’t die. Levi’s never seen a creature so gorgeous before, in and out.

                Eren feels like he’s incapable of turning his life around. But Eren can be happy. He _deserves_ to be happy. He’s _so_ beautiful. Every bad thing that’s happened to him is just proof that life is shit and Eren’s too good for this life.

                Erwin turns around, and he scuttles over to the pair on the floor, ignoring the fact that his pot on the nearby stove is, in fact, boiling over now. Hanji rushes into the room soon after, running up behind Levi, her _own_ tears in her eyes at the sight before her.

                “Eren,” Levi says, placing his hands on Eren’s cheeks, waving Eren’s own hands away and forcing him to look up at his face, “I love you, Eren.”

                Eren doesn’t respond.

                Erwin kneels down next to Levi, peering over his shoulder along with Hanji. “What’s wrong? Eren, are you having suicidal thoughts?”

                Levi's nothing if not impressed by Erwin's ability to assess the situation at hand.

                Eren’s eyes shift over to look at Eyebrows, but he doesn’t move his head away from where it faces Levi. He slowly nods, his breaths coming out shaky and nervous. Levi’s in a similar state - his hair’s undoubtedly ruffled, his face hardened as he tries to suppress all of the emotions that flood inside him at the sight of Eren with tears in his eyes and his skin paling and his bones poking out at every angle, his face so hopeless, his muscles limp with self-loathing.

                Eren’s done nothing wrong. Eren’s never done anything wrong. Levi, on the other hand, he’s done plenty of things wrong. If anything, _he’s_ the one who's more deserving of death right now. _Not Eren._

                “Talk to me,” Erwin says, “Tell me what’s wrong. Everything that’s wrong.”

                Levi gradually removes his fingers from Eren’s face, and he sits back, leaning into Hanji’s touch - he hadn’t noticed, but at some point she must’ve crouched down to sit by Levi. Her hand’s on his shoulder, and she places her head by his neck. Her hair gets in his face, but Levi’s actually thankful that it does so - he can’t bear to look at Eren right now. Eren’s so _broken._ He’s so _beautiful._

Eren opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a sob. Where Levi’s hands had once taken their position over Eren’s cheeks, tears now replace his fingers, his face stained with sadness.

                “Take your time,” Hanji murmurs, rubbing up and down Levi’s shoulder. Levi rests his head against hers, his heart pounding fast but the rest of him starting to grow numb from the hurt. His limbs fall lifeless, though his mind stays determined on _helping Eren, Eren won’t die, Eren’s going to be fine._

                Erwin inches a little closer to Eren, and Levi sits back, positioned on his knees, watching the scene lay out before him. He’s so _pathetic._ His lover, his future husband, is curled into a ball right in front of him, and he’s not doing anything. He’s letting a pair of eyebrows talk Eren out of suicide, silent in a place where Levi should be vocal.

                Eren needs help. Now. Not soon, not later, he needs help _now._

Eren tries again, opening his mouth to speak. This time, he’s able to form full words, though half of them are slurred and are hard to understand. “I wanna die.”

                “Why?” Erwin asks, his voice soothing. Levi buries his face in Hanji’s hair, trying to calm himself. His heart races in his chest, and his eyes burn with the stress, his arms twitching from the lack of _Eren_ in his hold. All he wants to do is grab Eren and keep him in his arms forever, to shield him from the worst of the world and to protect him from any and all bad thoughts.

                Eren’s too perfect. That’s why he’s been put through all of this, isn’t it? He’s _so_ perfect, fate had it that it wanted to destroy Eren. But Levi won’t let it succeed in killing him. Eren will _not_ die. Eren can be happy. Levi will do whatever it takes to make Eren happy. Eren deserves that much and more.

                “I hate myself so fucking much,” Eren mutters, his chest heaving up and down from the strain of _everything_ weighing down so heavily on him. “I’m shit. I can’t do anything right.”

                “W-”

                “ _Look at me,_ dumbass,” Eren snaps, “I’m so fucking ugly. I’ve never _been_ attractive, I’ll never _be_ attractive, it’s _hopeless. Look at me._ ”

                “I’m looking,” Erwin reassures. Levi’s amazed at how well he’s keeping his cool - Levi’s a wreck, and Erwin looks like he’s doing nothing more than training a newborn puppy.

                “No, you’re not,” Eren sobs, bringing his sleeved hands back up to his face once more and hiding his cheeks behind them, “If you were, you wouldn’t still be here. I’m _ugly._ I look like a fucking whale in everything I wear. My arms look like a cutting board. My hair’s falling out because I don’t eat the right things, and when I do, I eat too much, because I’m _stupid._ If I don’t die now, I’m just going to die later, because none of you even care. _I_ don’t even care. You’re wasting your time by trying to help me, because I’m _hopeless._ ”

                Levi lifts his head and opens his mouth to speak, but Hanji places a finger over his lips, shushing him. She removes her head from under Levi’s, and she wraps her hands around Levi’s upper arms, pulling him up from the floor. She drags him out of the kitchen, and Levi doesn’t fight it - he feels too weak, and his eyes and thoughts are glued only to his lover on the ground, who’s curled up into himself and whose eyes look so lost, whose face looks so sad.

                Hanji lures Levi out the door, shutting it behind them. She stands across from him, just outside the kitchen, her face strikingly upset, so different from her usual eccentricity.

                “Why did you-”

                “I think Eren needs some alone time,” Hanji murmurs, trying to comfort Levi by running her fingers through his hair. And it _does_ help - she, like Eren, has fairly thin fingers. Her touch reminds Levi of him, of Eren’s hands when they touch each other, of _Eren_ and everything that encompasses who he is and what they’ve been through together. Levi wouldn’t say it out loud, but he wants Hanji to keep combing through his hair.

                “Do you think Eren will be fine? With Erwin, I mean,” Levi asks, looking up at Hanji.

                Hanji gives him a small smile and nods. “I think Eren will be okay.”

                “Please be right, Hanji.”

                Hanji lets out a little chuckle, but there’s no heart behind it. She’s worried, too - it’s in her stiff movements, it’s in how slowly she pets Levi’s hair.

                “Maybe,” Hanji suggests, “It’ll help if you get your mind off of things. Try cleaning, yeah?”

                “Cleaning,” Levi repeats. He sighs, but he turns away from her and drags himself over to the corner of the room, picking up a broom from where it had been placed for future use. He sends one last look to Hanji - who smiles at him at she sits down on a stool - and he puts himself to work, sweeping the floors.

                As much as he’d like to try to think about how filthy the room’s gotten, he _can’t._ Eren’s dying. Inside and out. Levi thought that everything would be fine once he sent Eren to therapy. He’s spent the last three months in blissful ignorance. Eren _should_ be dead right now, Levi’s neglected to feed him anything nutritious. It’s a miracle that he’s still alive. Levi’s not too sure what’s keeping him running, but whatever it is, he hopes that it keeps working. He vaguely remembers having to watch Eren down pills every other morning, though he's never thought too much of it.

                Levi keeps his head turned toward the floor, hoping that maybe, if he doesn’t look up and see the people around him, he’ll be able to escape reality. Escape into a world where Eren’s happy, and they’re getting married, and Eren’s healthy, and he eats full meals and he kisses Levi before bed every night. And maybe Levi would bring Eren into work every day, and he’d make Eren his meals for him - big meals, full of nutrients and healthy shit - and maybe Eren would help him clean the tabletops. Eren might not be the cleanest person, but he could learn. He’s capable of anything.

                Above all, Levi just wants Eren to love himself. If Eren could learn to do that, then they could be happy. That’s ultimately what’s holding Eren back, isn’t it? The fact that he doesn’t love himself. That he thinks he’s not worth anybody’s time.

                Levi doesn’t notice until a solid fifteen minutes have passed, but he’s been sweeping the exact same spot on the floor for so long now. He can’t bring himself to move his legs, though. Everything hurts. Eren’s stuck in the kitchen with Erwin, and while Levi trusts Erwin, it worries him because they’ve been in there for a while now.

                Levi looks up. Hanji’s spinning around in her chair, looking a little lost. Nobody new has entered their little abode in all this time, unsurprisingly - it’s that little hour between breakfast and lunch when few people are looking to eat. Levi’s grateful for this, of course. He’s not too sure that he can handle seeing another person right now. His heart hurts too much.

                Levi sets the broom down, putting it back up against the wall. He forces his legs forward until he’s across from Hanji, his arms crossed and face as set as it can be.

                “Talk to me, Hanji.”

                “Huh?”

                “Talk to me.”

                “About what?”

                “I don’t give a shit. Just talk to me.”

                Hanji blinks, looking confused for a moment. She stops spinning in her chair, and she places her hands in her lap before nodding and starting on a rather loud rampage about her apparent anger toward her favorite store having recently closed down. Levi listens intently, not truly caring anything about Hanji’s choice in shopping centers, but needing something - _anything_ \- to take his mind off of Eren. He’s desperate to know that Eren’s okay, he’s dying to know that Eren will walk through that kitchen door smiling and maybe he’ll even come and hug Levi, and Levi can pick him up and carry him off to their seats from earlier, and Levi can kiss his ring and promise him a better tomorrow.

                Levi focuses all of his attention on Hanji’s words, afraid to so much as blink, in case it draws him back to thoughts of Eren and his depressing eyes. He listens, watching the way that Hanji waves her hands back and forth, and how she glances around the room occasionally, as if the sight of empty seats gives her motivation. Every now and then, she gets really excited about something and flies completely off-topic, only to return soon again with an apology and a promise to stay on subject. Which is broken within seconds, as she decides that it’s _so_ urgent that she tell Levi of her new hairdresser.

                Levi’s head whips around at the speed of lightning, hearing the door just behind him open. Out of it comes Eren, first, his head pointed down, and then Erwin, whom Levi wishes would show an expression other than neutrality. Anything to reassure Levi that Eren’s fine.

                Levi steps forward, instantly going to wrap his arms around Eren. Eren hugs him back, and Levi uses his hand to push Eren’s face into the crook of his neck - Eren’s cheeks are wet, damp from his tears. Levi threads his fingers through Eren’s hair, extending his neck out far enough to reach out and kiss Eren’s shoulder and throat repeatedly. Eren says nothing, his fingers hanging lightly onto Levi’s waist.

                Erwin doesn’t say anything either, but he gives Levi a look that says he’ll explain everything later. Levi gives a subtle nod, inching Eren over into a chair - it’s the chair that Hanji had occupied when she went on a rant requested by Levi, but she’d stood up as soon as she saw Levi pulling Eren in that direction.

                Levi stands as close as he can to Eren, sliding fingers under Eren’s chin and holding his head up to peer at Levi. Levi hadn’t thought it possible, but Eren looks a million times more broken than when he’d lashed out at everyone. His eyes are the darkest shade they’ve ever been, his skin the palest it’s ever been, his arms and legs limp. Levi places a hand over Eren’s chest, and sure enough, his heart’s racing nearly as fast, if not faster, than Levi’s is.

                Levi uses his other hand to continue twirling through Eren’s hair. Eren’s head leans in the direction where Levi’s hand is, and Levi pushes against Eren’s head, placing him as close to Levi’s chest as possible. Eren buries his cheek into Levi’s body, soaking his shirt with his drying tears.

                Hanji comes up and wraps an arm around Levi’s back, trying to look strong. She flashes Eren a smile, and Eren smiles back, despite how obviously hurt he must be. Levi leans down and pecks Eren’s head with a kiss or two or three, but Eren doesn’t return those kisses.

                “Are you okay, Eren?” Hanji asks, tightening her grip on Levi’s back.

                “Yeah.”

                Levi doesn’t believe him. At all.

                “Do you want me to get you anything?” Hanji offers, “Maybe a drink? Or I could get you some new socks. That always cheers _me_ up. There's this one store down the street-"

                “No, thank you. Um, actually, Levi?”

                “Yeah?” Levi breathes, trying to expel as much of his relief and fears in one single breath. He’s not so lucky, as all it does is flare up the worst of his nerves once more.

                “Can you take me home?” Eren asks, his voice soft.

                “Of course.”

                “Can, uh, can someone else come too?”

                “I volunteer,” Hanji says, “I’ll carry you if you want me to.”

                “Er, no,” Eren shakes his head, removing himself from Levi’s chest, “I, I kind of want Levi to hold me. Yeah?”

                “That’s fine,” Hanji lets go of Levi’s shoulder. “Erwin?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Do you wanna come with us?”

                “Actually,” Erwin says, approaching the crowd of three, “I was thinking that maybe I could hold Levi back for a few minutes, and you and Eren could walk home together.”

                “Eren?” Hanji nudges, looking to see if he’s fine with that idea. Eren gives a little nod after a few seconds of thought, and Levi, however reluctantly, removes himself from around Eren. He looks for the ring on his hand, but Eren’s sleeves extend far past his fingers at the moment.

                Levi steps to the side, watching as Hanji practically sweeps Eren off of his chair and drags him towards the door. Eren doesn’t fight her, and in fact, Levi sees him smile at something that she whispers to him.

                Eren’s in good hands. Levi hates seeing him go, but he’s with Hanji. Hanji’s smart enough to know how to handle him.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “So, my little cutie,” Hanji says, shutting the door to Levi’s house behind her. Eren had a key, but Hanji decided that she wanted to do enter the hard way by means of picking his lock. “How’s your hair been? It looks soft. Can I touch it?”

                “Ah, sure?”

                Hanji smiles, as she always does, and she shoves both of her hands through Eren’s hair. Her hands roam through his entire head of hair, and all Eren can do is watch as she assesses every little detail.

                “What shampoo do you use?” Hanji asks, “My hair isn’t this soft. Or do you use conditioner?”

                “Um, Hanji,” Eren says with a nervous laugh, “Maybe we should take this into the-”

                “The living room! That’s right, the living room.” She grabs his shoulder and drags him away, marching down the hallway while talking to him about some sort of new soap that she’s been using recently. Eren’s not even sure why she brought the subject up about bathing, but Eren won’t fight it. He loves this distraction.

                After Levi and Hanji had left Eren to Erwin, Eren practically spilled his guts to the man. He’d sat, curled up in his little bubble, rambling on and on to Erwin about everything that’s happened to him ever since he first thought about wanting to kill himself. And all Erwin did was kneel by him, nodding every now and then to show that he was listening. Eren’s not sure _why_ he felt so safe confiding in the guy - maybe it’s those eyebrows. They’re big enough to hold all of his secrets, but Eren fears above all that Erwin’s going to relay all of Eren’s tales back to Levi. It shouldn’t bother him, but it _does_ , because Levi’s already worried enough. It was obvious, in how tightly he gripped Eren and how wide his eyes had grown, his hands were wet with sweat and his thumbs had the slightest of twitching in them.

                Levi _should_ know about everything that’s happened. If they’re going to get married, Levi deserves that kind of knowledge. Levi’s told _Eren_ nearly everything about him - Levi’s offered him information about his apparently long-time dead relatives, and his bold choice in friends, and even why he bothers to trim his eyebrows every single morning. Eren was far less than surprised to learn that Erwin and Hanji had sucked him into their friendship and refused to let him go no matter what.

                After Eren had finished sobbing to Erwin, Eren _did_ feel a little better. Having had released all of his energy and sadness lifted a humongous weight off of his shoulders. Erwin even gave him a hug after it was all over, and Eren’s not ashamed to say that he loved their little embrace - Erwin’s arms are _huge_ and comforting. Despite looking tall and muscular, he’s actually pretty soft and he smells like tangerines.

                Eren tried to include as many details as he could to Erwin, even going so far as to mention the fact that he feels like an attention whore for everything that’s been going on. And after his little outburst, where he’d kicked Levi in the face and attempted to escape, Eren only felt more so like he was stealing the spotlight away when he’s not worthy of the spotlight.

                “Have a seat, Eren,” Hanji offers, motioning toward the couch, “I’ll go get us some yogurt. You like yogurt, right? Levi doesn’t. But I keep a hidden stash in his fridge.”

                Eren watches as she dashes out of the room, not waiting for his response. Hanji might as well live here. Eren’s not sure if she even _has_ her own home. She’s here, at Levi’s house, nearly eighteen hours a day, and when she’s not, she’s either working or, according to Levi’s word, at _Erwin’s_ house. Eren doesn’t necessarily mind, though. He likes Hanji. She makes the best scrambled eggs that he’s ever had.

                Eren sits down, curling back up into a ball on the end of the couch. He brings his legs up, wrapping himself around them - he’d remembered to take his shoes off before walking in, though he’s at least ninety percent positive that Hanji hadn’t. She was wearing long boots that nearly touched her thighs. She couldn’t take those off in less than five minutes even if she tore her own legs off.

                Hanji sprints back into the room, less than a minute having passed, her arms full of assorted containers and as many spoons as one person can handle at once. She dumps it all onto the cushion next to Eren, and she places herself on the other end of the couch, flashing Eren jazz hands.

                “Lookie here,” Hanji says, an excited grin on her face, “This yogurt is banana flavored. I hate bananas, but maybe you’d like them? Or maybe you want to try the coffee flavored one first. I _love_ that- Oh, no, actually, try the blueberry and raspberry swirl!”

                Eren rests his head on his arms, watching and waiting while Hanji tries to decide what yogurt Eren should eat first. He has a feeling that she’s going to make him try every single one of them, but he doesn’t mind. He’s _starving_ right now, he has half a mind to just snatch the pomegranate infused chocolate and vanilla yogurt dashed with chunks of real strawberries right out of her hands and down the whole thing at once.

                His talk with Erwin made him feel good. _Really_ good. Erwin hadn’t done much more than stare at Eren while Eren cried his heart out, but that’s exactly what Eren needed. Someone who would listen without interrupting him to give their input. Hanji couldn’t have done that. Levi _could_ have done that, but knowing his intense need to reassure Eren that Eren’s _so beautiful_ , Eren wouldn’t be able to tell him all of his sorrows.

                Maybe it’s a good thing that Erwin’s going to tell Levi it all. That way, Eren doesn’t have to fear the day that he _would_ have to talk about it to Levi. He’s done crying. He’s done feeling worthless, he’s done feeling like a sack of shit, he’s _done_ with it all. Jean and Marco are out of his life now. Fuck them. Mikasa and Armin don’t talk to him that often anymore. Fuck _them._ He has Levi and Hanji and Erwin and Ymir and Krista and Petra and who the hell was that other guy? The guy with the weird fluffy hair and hated Levi with a passion. He sold flowers. He has him, too, if not for talking to than for a good laugh. Levi’s brought the guy up in conversation before as _Petra’s secret admirer,_ and Eren can’t help but laugh every time he’s mentioned. Eren has yet to hear a story about him that doesn’t bring tears to his eyes from laughter.

                “I got it!” Hanji says, “You’ll try the cheesecake one first. You look like a cheesecake kind of person.”

                “I do?”

                “Yeah,” she says, taking the lid off of the container, “Did you know, Eren? Yogurt’s supposed to be good for you. Especially if you’re a woman. You’re not a woman, though. Hey, Eren, would you ever consider getting a sex change?”

                “Ah, uh, no, not really.”

                “That’s a shame. You’d be a really pretty girl. I’d still love you if you were a girl.”

                “I’d love you, too, Hanj-”

                “ _You love me_? Aw, Eren!” Hanji throws herself across the couch, pulling Eren into a hug. “I love you so much, my little angelfish, never leave me. Never, ever, ever, ever, _ever_ leave me.”

                “I promise to never leave you, Hanji.”

                “Ever?”

                “Ever.”

                Eren can’t kill himself. He _can’t._ If he does, he won’t have anymore of Hanji’s antics to look forward to, or Erwin’s hugs and Levi’s kisses. He won’t ever get to look into Petra’s gorgeous eyes again, and he’ll never get to laugh at what’s-his-name’s suffering any longer.

                The only thing holding Eren back from being happy is himself.

                Hanji lets go of Eren, sitting back in her seat. She hands Eren a spoon and the yogurt, and Eren doesn’t hesitate for even a moment before diving straight into it. It tastes good, but the texture is all wrong - it feels like expired milk in his mouth, but he keeps downing spoon after spoon of it for the aftertaste. Even though the label says _cheesecake,_ it tastes a hell of a lot more like some sort of funky cracker-type food. The aftertaste has a _hint_ of cheddar in it, but that’s the only thing that’s cheesy about this yogurt.

                Hanji opens her own yogurt - she’s gone for a chocolate flavored one - and she sits back, slumping into her seat, eyeing her food as she eats. Eren watches her, paying no attention to his own food - he’s found that it’s easier to eat larger quantities when he’s not actually focused on _eating._

                “Hanji?”

                “Yeah?” Hanji glances over, her eyes soft.

                “Do you think I’ll be alright?”

                “Alright?” Hanji raises her eyebrows, “No. No, I think you’ll be _fabulous_! You and I should go shopping this weekend. I’ve noticed you wear a lot of Levi’s clothing, which is fine, but Levi’s clothing is so _boring._ Wouldn’t you like to wear something a little more striking? Show off that cute little smile of yours? Have you ever worn combat boots before? You should. They accentuate your legs. Just look at mine!”

                Hanji sticks her leg in the air, nearly knocking herself in the face with how close her knee gets to herself. She’s right, though - her legs _do_ look really good, if Eren’s allowed to say so.

                “Do you shave your legs, Eren?” Hanji asks suddenly, “Can I feel your legs? Actually, no. Feel mine. I just shaved this morning.”

                “No, thank you,” Eren laughs, shaking his head at her suggestion. Hanji laughs, too, her mouth full of yogurt as she shoves her spoon in her cheeks.

                “What do you think’s taking Levi so long?” Hanji asks, “Do you think that maybe he's decided to grow out a beard?”

                “What does that have to do with him being late?”

                “Nothing,” Hanji shrugs, “Just curious. Or maybe _you’d_ like-”

                “No.”

                “Aw, but-”

                “Not a chance.”

                “Levi would like it. Maybe.”

                “Levi can go screw himself.”

                “You’re going to be such a loving husband,” Hanji says whimsically, “I’m glad Levi chose you. If he hadn’t, I would’ve. Not as a husband, but as a really close friend.”

                “You would?”

                “Sure,” Hanji sits up, “Why not? You’re super cute. Look at those cheeks!”

                “But you didn’t even know me before Levi came around.”

                “So?” Hanji shrugs, “Fate has a way of working things out. I don’t know if you believe in any of that stuff, but look at where we are now! I’m sitting across from the cutest little chipmunk I’ve ever seen before, eating yogurt.”

                “That doesn’t have anything to do with fate.”

                “Maybe not. But it’s nice to have something to believe in.”

                Eren doesn’t respond, setting down his now-empty yogurt cup on the floor. He sorts through Hanji’s collection before him, deciding that he’ll go for the rootbeer one next. It sounds gross, but life’s about taking risks, isn’t it?

                Eren’s spent far too much time worrying about frivolous things. Who even _cares_ if he gains five pounds or if he gains _fifty_ pounds? He has people who will love him either way. And if anybody were to dare make fun of him for it, those same people who love him would go up and rip the haters limb from limb.

                Eren’s missing out on a lot, by focusing all of his attention on what _other_ people think about him. He’s had a bad life, but things _can_ change now. Everything can change. From now on, no matter how hard it is, he’s going to do everything that he can to make his life worth living. Whether that entails getting Levi to fire a bazooka at Marco’s house, or whether it means getting Hanji to accompany him on a rollercoaster ride, he’ll do whatever it takes. Food doesn’t matter. Even if he only eats the bare minimum to survive, he’ll do it, because he has so much to look forward to. He’s hardly old enough to be considered an adult. He has _so much_ life ahead of himself, and just yesterday he was thinking about how worthless he was.

                Eren sets to work, eating his yogurt slowly. The rootbeer one, admittedly, tastes a million times better than the cheesecake one, but that’s not saying much. Maybe Eren just doesn’t like yogurt.

                “Eren?”

                “Yeah, Hanji?”

                “Can I look at your ring?”             

                “Sure,” Eren holds his hand out. Hanji grabs it, admiring the little ring on his finger. She touches it hesitantly, looking up to him to see if she’s allowed to do so. Eren gives her a nod.

                “It’s so pretty,” Hanji murmurs, “I’m _really_ glad that Levi’s marrying you.”            

                “Why?”

                “Oh, where do I begin, sweetheart?”

                “Mm. First impressions.”

                Hanji thinks for a moment, setting her yogurt down and shrugging her jacket off to reveal a tight tank top underneath. She hunches forward, resting her chin on her palm as she scoops her yogurt back up and resumes eating.

                “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Eren, but a lot of things go through my mind all at once.”

                Eren laughs, “Aha, yeah, I guess that’s true.

                Eren hears the front door open, and he and Hanji both wait as they hear the footsteps approaching the living room. It’s only one set - light taps against the floor, and soon enough, none other than the light footed Levi is entering the room.

                “Levi?” Hanji says, her head twisted around to look at him, “Where’s Erwin?”

                “You know, we _are_ supposed to be working today,” he grumbles, not even giving a shit about who’s in the room as he grabs the back of his collar and pulls his shirt off. He takes the time to fold it, though, and he places it on the arm of a chair.

                “We could close early.”

                “Early? It’s lunchtime, dipshit.”

                Levi turns to face the two on the couch, and Eren watches as his face immediately softens at the sight. He’s wearing nothing but baggy, tan pants tucked into _combat boots_ \- it’s as if Hanji has some sort of sixth sense for these kinds of things - and Eren can see the upper band of his underwear poking above his belt. He’s beyond attractive, it’s a wonder how Hanji can stop herself from staring - she’s preoccupied with trying to decide on yet another yogurt to eat.

                Eren thinks it’s a little weird that Levi didn’t bother to take off his boots before entering, being the person who insists that footwear comes off in the first place, but then again, maybe he’s in the same position as Hanji, with shoes that would require a little extra effort to remove from his body. That, or maybe he’s not thinking clearly right now.

                Eren spreads himself out, uncurling himself from the ball he’d formed, and he waits, because Levi’s going to come over and hug him. No doubt. He has that look on his face. There’s a glint in his eye, and sure enough, Levi walks the few steps over and nearly picks Eren up with how tightly he wraps his arms around his waist.

                “So fucking beautiful,” Levi murmurs against his ear, kissing his cheek, “Goddamn it, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

                “It’s true,” Hanji pipes in, shoving her spoon in her mouth.

 _This_ is why he can’t kill himself. This is why he can’t starve himself any longer. He can’t hurt these people. They don’t deserve to be hurt. They deserve only happiness.

 _Eren_ deserves only happiness.

                Levi squeezes Eren into the tightest hug he’s ever felt - it’s even tighter than all of Hanji’s hugs - whispering words against his skin, about how he’ll be Eren’s distraction from now on, and how he’ll never let him out of his sight, and if he does, he’ll make sure that there’s _someone_ there for Eren, even if Levi were to spontaneously die or if he were to be sent to another country for whatever reason. And Eren believes every single word that he says.

                “Hey, Levi?” Hanji says, “Why don’t I get a hug?”

                “I’m not touching your disgusting ass.”

                “Then _don’t_ touch my ass. Touch my arms.”

                “Fuck no.”

                “But that’s not fair!”

                “Life isn’t fair.”

                “ _Please?_ ”

                “Will you shut up if I do?”

                “Yes.”

                Eren laughs, watching as Levi reluctantly leans over and puts his arms over Hanji’s shoulders. Hanji’s hands go to Levi’s shoulder blades, very lightly brushing over his skin with her skin. The hug lasts, at most, twenty seconds, and Eren has a sneaking suspicion that Levi enjoyed it as much as Hanji did. No matter _what_ he says.

                “Um, Levi?” Eren says. Levi looks at him, and before Eren even gets another word out, Levi’s back around him, arms gripping Eren’s hips and pulling him into Levi’s chest. Eren presses his head against Levi’s shoulder, holding his yogurt idly as he waits for Levi to finish sprinkling kisses all over his face. The kisses are wet, and before Eren has the chance to speak again, his face feels like he’s just been licked by a dog over and over again.

                “Eren,” Levi breathes in between kisses, “I promise you, I’ll _never_ ever leave you alone ever again, you hear me? Even if it means that I have to have Shitty Eyebrows here with you. You won’t be alone. Ever.”

                “Oh, can I stay with him sometime?” Hanji offers, “I want to go shopping.”

                “Of course. Of course,” Levi murmurs, sitting down beside Eren. He places himself on the arm of the couch, his hands clutching at Eren’s shoulders and setting to work rubbing them, giving Eren the back massage that he never asked for. He likes it, though - Eren’s been so tense these past few months, it’s nice to be able to let someone relax him with just their hands. “Anytime you want, Four-Eyes.”

                “Levi,” Eren says again, his voice coming out slurred as Levi digs his palms into the core of Eren’s upper back, “What happened with Erwin?”

                “Nothing much,” he says, “He just talked to me about a few things.”

                “Did he tell you about what I told him?”

                “Mm. Kind of,” Levi’s thumbs burl into Eren’s shoulders, “More so, he told me that I should appreciate you a little more.”

                “You didn’t appreciate me before?”

                “Not what I meant. I meant, I’m selfish and I should’ve been putting your health first. Before I go out and spend my shit on wedding rings, I should’ve spent more time with _you_ making sure that you’re healthy and all that.”

                “So you regret proposing?”

                “You sure know how to twist my words around, don’t you? That’s not what I meant, love.”

                “I know,” Eren leans back, letting Levi hold him up, “I’m _kidding_ , Levi.”

                “Shithead. Don’t scare me like that.”

                “Levi? Admitting to being _scared_?” Hanji scoffs, “I never thought that this day would come.”

                “Shut the fuck up, Glasses.”

                “Levi, why don’t you ever give _me_ back rubs?”

                “Hanji, why don’t you ever _shut the fuck up_?”

                Eren closes his eyes, listening to the bantering back and forth between Levi and Hanji. Levi continues to rub up and down his back, occasionally giving Eren a kiss on the forehead for no apparent reason. Eren almost thinks that he’s just imagining it, as Hanji never makes a comment about it, but there’s no mistaking those lips. There’s no mistaking the wet, slobbery kisses that he places on Eren’s body, and there’s no mistaking the rough hands that dig into his bones.

                Eren’s going to be strong. He’s going to eat. He’s not going to cut himself, ever again. He’s going to be _happy_. He’s beautiful, he’s determined, and he has _friends._ He doesn’t need to starve himself to earn their love. He doesn’t need to kill himself to end his suffering. His suffering ends here and _now_ , with Levi’s hands on his back, a halfway eaten cup of yogurt in his grasp, and Hanji laughing her head off across from him. _This_ is the life that he’s always wanted - surrounded by people who think that he’s worth their time, people who try to include him in their conversations, people who give him unconditional support and pride and joy.

                Eren couldn’t be happier.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “Eren, wake up, love,” Levi shakes Eren’s shoulders.

                Eren wakes up, and above him is a shirtless Levi, still wearing the same outfit from before Eren had fallen asleep. Eren rubs his eyes, and he sits up, lightly shoving Levi out of his face.

                Levi sets himself on his knees, waiting for Eren to fully awaken. They’re in their bedroom - Levi must’ve carried Eren upstairs and tucked him into bed. He hadn’t changed Eren’s clothing, though he _did_ remove Eren’s pants. Eren’s left in only his oversized sweater and dark boxers.

                “Where’s Hanji?” Eren asks with a yawn.

                “She just left.”

                “Where’d she go?”

                “Hell if I know. Probably went to go pester Eyebrows for a couple of hours.”

                Eren giggles. He doesn’t even have to ask who _Eyebrows_ is. There are only so many people who fester caterpillars above their eyes.

                “How long have I been asleep?”

                “Not too long,” Levi shrugs, “Maybe an hour?”

                “Oh.”

                Eren spreads his legs, wiggling his toes. He feels _good_ about himself. His legs don’t go numb underneath his own weight anymore. His skin looks significantly tanner than the last time he’d looked in the mirror. His hair’s falling out at a _much_ slower rate now.

                Levi sits with his legs crossed between Eren’s spread ones. He picks up Eren’s arm, and he tugs the ring off of his finger, hiding it in his palm, eyes set as he stares Eren in the face.

                “What’re you doing?” Eren asks.

                “Proposing to you the _right_ way.”

                “Huh?”

                “If I’m being brutally honest, the only reason I proposed to you last time was because I was afraid. I thought you were going to hurt yourself again, so I panicked and thought that maybe the idea of a wedding would stop you from killing yourself.”

                “What?”

                “Mhm. But Hanji told me, albeit in passing, about your little promise to never leave her.”

                “I did say that.”

                “How about this, then? You promise _me_ that you’ll stay faithful for the rest of our lives. My life, at least.”

                “Because you’re so old?”

                “Shitface. Don’t say it out loud.”

                “I love you, Levi.”

                “I love you, too, Eren. Now. Give me five minutes.”

                “For?”

                “So I can compose myself. I prepared a speech for you.”

                “Mm, a proposal speech?”

                “Maybe.”

                “You don’t have to do this, Levi.”

                “You’re right,” Levi says, standing up, “But I want to.”

                Eren nods, and he pushes himself to the end of the mattress. Levi crouches down in front of him, getting down on one knee and holding a hand out. Eren places his wrist there, the wrist that holds the hand that holds the finger that had once held the ring that Levi’s about to redeliver. There’s a slight indent in his finger, where the ring had been pressing to his skin for so long. Eren, once he’d put it on, hadn’t taken it off for anything. Not even when he went to go take a shower.

                “Uh, so, _Eren,_ ” Levi starts, “I don’t know where to begin. You’re _so fucking_ beautiful, every time I look at you, I’m speechless because of your eyes and your smile.”

                “Mm?” Eren gives Levi a shit-eating grin, liking how nervous Levi looks. Levi glares at him.

                “ _Shithead._ I knew I shouldn’t have done this.”

                “No, no,” Eren tries to wipe the grin off of his face and fails, “Nuh-uh. Tell me more about how pretty I am.”

                “Every time I look at you, I want to touch you.”

                “Pervert.”

                “ _Not what I meant._ ”

                “I like it when you touch me, Levi.”

                “Is that supposed to be taken sexually?”

                “ _Pervert_ ,” Eren leans forward, accentuating each syllable. “But, I mean, either way.”

                “Huh,” Levi scoffs, the slightest of smirks on his face, “Kiss my ass.”

                “Why don’t you kiss _mine_?”

                “Maybe later. Can I finish, now?” Levi asks, raising his eyebrows.

                “Oh, wait,” Eren says, holding up a finger. He slips his hand out of Levi’s, and he digs around the blankets behind him, finding his phone hidden away. “Let me record this.”

                “No way in hell. Put that shit away,” Levi stands up, “You know what? Fine. Take the damn ring. To hell with my proposal.”

                “Are you mad, babe?” Eren laughs, holding his phone up as if he were taking a picture. His phone isn’t even turned on, though.

                “Furious. _Put it away,_ ” Levi pleads, covering the camera part of the phone. Eren falls back onto the mattress, overwhelmed with laughter.

                “I’ll put it away if you put the ring back on my finger.”

                “Damn it, Eren,” Levi sighs, but his eyes are lit with happiness. Eren holds his hand out for him, a slight bend in his fingers, like a princess holding her hand out for her prince.

                Levi slides the ring back on, and it falls into place in the same spot where it had been before Levi removed it. Levi kisses Eren’s knuckles, pushing him down into the mattress. Eren lies back, wrapping his legs around Levi’s waist and his arms around Levi’s neck.

                Levi kisses Eren’s jaw, and Eren tosses the phone away, where it falls to the floor somewhere not too far away. Eren giggles after each kiss Levi puts on him, threading fingers through his undercut.

                “Levi?”

                “Yes, my love?”

                “What kind of wedding cake are we going to have?”

                “I’m thinking a marble cake.”

                “Ew. I want red velvet,” Eren pouts, pulling his face away from Levi to show off the jut in his lip. Levi shakes his head.

                “No. Red velvet is shit.”

                “Um, _excuse you_ ,” Eren widens his eyes, “I _love_ red velvet. I haven’t had it in, like, seven years.”

                “Then how do you know that you’ll still love it?”

                “I just know.”

                Levi rolls his eyes, and he picks Eren up, holding onto his thighs as he moves him downstairs. Eren sets his head on Levi’s shoulder, patiently waiting until he and Levi are in their living room again, and Levi sets him on the couch, where Eren lies on his back. The yogurt’s gone - Hanji must’ve either eaten it all, or she merely put it away in her secret hiding spot. Eren’s going to have to find out where she puts it - as much as he doesn’t really like yogurt, for some reason, he has a craving for it.

                “Why did you move us down here?” Eren asks as Levi climbs on top of him, resting his head on Eren’s chest.

                “It’s cooler down here. The air conditioning circulates better.”

                “The hell, Levi?”

                “What? I didn’t design the house.”

                Eren laughs - this is probably the most that he’s ever laughed in his entire life. He curls himself around Levi, closing his eyes and attempting to find sleep again. Levi seems to be doing to same - he says not another word, the only sounds about them being the whirr of the ceiling fan above them and their own breathing, gradually falling in sync.

                Hanji’s not the only one who’s really glad that Eren’s marrying Levi. Eren couldn’t possibly be any more gleeful, his heart pounding a little faster at the thought of spending the rest of his life with the man above him, the ring so painfully obvious on his finger. He wants to show it off, and maybe one day, someone unsuspecting will try to flirt with Eren and Eren will get to shove the ring in his face. And then maybe get Levi to kick the guy’s ass. Levi would do that. He has so much muscle, he might as well put it to good use.

                Eren mindlessly tugs at Levi’s nose. Levi says something to him about it, but his voice is morphed from the lack of oxygen going through his nostrils, which makes Eren burst into laughter. Levi lightly smacks him for it, but he makes up for the hit by setting to work tickling Eren’s belly. Eren squirms underneath him, trying to flip over and hide his stomach, only to have Levi turn him back and tickle him even more.

                This is what Eren’s always wanted. _This._ If he could spend the rest of his life like this, he’ll be fine. He likes being tickled. He likes being kissed. He likes Hanji’s comments about which kind of yogurt is the healthiest. He likes Erwin’s willingness to just sit back and listen.

                He could go on and on, listing off the billions of things that he likes about each and every person in his life. But right now, he’s a little too focused on trying not to choke on his own laughter.

                Levi’s gone out of his way so many times to call Eren beautiful. And maybe it’s about time that Eren started believing him. It might not be so easy - sometimes he’ll feel good, sometimes he’ll feel bad. Sometimes he’ll have good days, sometimes he’ll have bad days.

                But he’s _trying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took so long to update, I really have no excuse, hehe...


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

“Ready, Eren?” Levi asks, shrugging on his shirt.

                “Yes, sir,” Eren salutes, picking up Levi’s jacket from the bed. It might as well be called _Eren’s_ jacket now, Levi hardly gets to wear it anymore. Levi teases him about it constantly, and Eren _maybe sort of really likes_ the taunts. “Ah, actually, tie my shoes for me first.”

                Levi sighs, but he kneels down to the floor in front of Eren. Eren holds his foot out, waiting while Levi laces up his boots - Hanji _had_ kept her promise of taking Eren out shopping, and now she and Eren go out together nearly every weekend. Eren doesn’t mind, though, he loves it.

                Eren crosses his arms, watching the top of Levi’s head as he takes his precious time with Eren’s shoes. The first one is laced up in a matter of seconds, and Levi switches to the other foot, starting on _that_ one.

                Eren pulls Levi’s jacket on while Levi ties his shoes. The jacket is still huge on him, and he _adores_ it. Despite all of the times that Eren’s worn it, and despite all of the times that Levi’s forced him to wash it, Levi’s scent has never faded from it. It’s like it’s been ingrained into the fabric with no hopes of escaping.

                Eren’s pants are tight on him, a strange sensation considering he’s grown so used to _loose_ clothing. He likes his pants tight, though, it makes him feel _attractive_ , like he’s got an ass to show off. Which, he might - Levi’s _constantly_ giving him subtle squeezes and kisses on his lower back. Not necessarily while they’re in public, of course, but Eren often finds himself being woken up by Levi’s lips on his skin.

                Eren’s been engaged to Levi for a year now, and their wedding day is drawing nearer and nearer. They’ve left pretty much all of the details up to Hanji and Petra, even letting them decide who wears what and who gets invited.

                “Two weeks, love, think you can handle it?” Levi asks, standing back up. Because Levi tied Eren’s shoes for him, Eren decides to return the favor by buttoning up Levi’s shirt for him.

                “Think _you_ can handle it?” Eren says, “You’re the one who’s going to be translating everything for me.”

                “I _have_ been refreshing my memory - Eren, that button doesn’t go there - ah, mon ange.”

                “My angel?”

                “Mhm. Je voudrais te baiser.”

                “Huh?”

                Levi takes a step back, admiring what Eren’s done to his shirt. Eren left about three buttons undone, because Levi’s a million times more glorious to look at when it seems like he’s not trying too hard. If leaving his collar bones showing over the top of his shirt can be considered _“not trying.”_

                “I said that I love you.”

                “I thought _je t’aime_ meant I love you, though.”

                “There _are_ other ways to say it, Eren.”

                “Oh. Uh, je voudrais te baiser, to you too, then,” Eren says, trying his absolute hardest to remember how everything was pronounced. “Why are you laughing?”

                “I’m not laughing,” Levi says. And, technically, he’s not. He has the most devilish smirk on his face, though, as he grabs a bag off of the floor and flings it over his shoulder.

                “You’re smiling.”

                “Ah. Hm. No reason. Just excited, yeah?”

                “ _Levi_.”

                “Fine,” Levi sighs, grabbing onto Eren’s wrist. “I just told you that I want to fuck you. Happy?”

                “ _Levi,_ ” Eren groans.

                “I love you, Eren, but if we don’t get moving, we’ll miss the plane.”

                “Aren’t you the one who proposed fucking, though?”

                “Doesn’t mean I want to do it right now. Let’s go, love,” Levi says, pulling on Eren’s wrist. Eren leans over and picks up his _own_ bag off of the floor, holding it idly in his fingers.

                “Is Hanji going to meet us there?”

                “Hopefully not,” Levi groans, “Knowing her, though, she wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

                “Is she coming with us?”

                “Oh, hell, I hope not.”

                “She’s not that bad, Levi.”

                “She’s not. But this is supposed to be _our_ vacation, love.”

                Eren shrugs. He’s not wrong.

                Levi, nearly six months into their engagement, had brought up the idea that he should take Eren to France. Eren wasn’t sure how Levi had come up with that, but then Levi reminded him of their little conversation they’d had over a fish lunch what feels like decades ago - Eren had mentioned that he has a passion for traveling, and Levi offered to whisk Eren away to a foreign country one day. And what better place than the country where Levi’s fairly familiar with the native language?

                Hanji’s decided to meet them at the airport, but she’s not supposed to be going with them. She’s just there to wave them goodbye and make sure that they didn’t forget to pack anything. Eren won’t be surprised if she goes through every little thing in their bags before letting them go, though. _Just to be sure._

                “You have your phone?” Levi asks, still holding onto Eren’s wrist.

                “Yeah.”

                Eren smiles. He walks up beside Levi, keeping stride with him as they exit the household.

                The engagement ring is a little tight - Eren weighs a solid 130 pounds now, and the last time he weighed himself was a month ago. His therapy sessions have evened out, and he only really ever goes to them once or twice every few weeks.

                Whenever Eren smiles, he swears that Levi gets a little happier each time. Levi’s eyes linger on Eren’s face a little longer than usual, and the corners of his lips never fail to twitch, hinting at a grin. Levi had bothered saving up his money for so long, Eren feels like he needs to do something nice back. So he smiles as often as he can.

                “Do you want breakfast first?” Levi asks as he turns around and locks the front door behind him. They’re outside now, and Eren stands by, waiting as Levi sorts through his keys.

                “I already ate while you were in the shower.”

                “Ah,” Levi nods, “Alright.”

                Levi backs away from the door, and Eren grabs his hand, interlocking their fingers as they begin walking again.

                Eren couldn’t be happier, knowing that he’s the reason Levi looks so joyful. His scary glare has worn off on Eren, and now Eren can successfully stand up against his narrowed eyes without cowering in fear. For the most part.

                Levi doesn’t have his own engagement ring, but he’s promised that as soon as they get married, he’ll wear _that_ ring as often as is humanly possible. He’d somehow forgotten to buy a ring for himself when buying Eren’s ring, but Eren doesn’t care. It’s not like Levi would ever dare to be unfaithful to him. Levi’s not that kind of person. That, and he’s _very_ rarely not by Eren’s side. He even tries to drag Eren to work every morning, which Eren happily agrees to - he hasn’t got much else to do, anyways.

                Eren would be amazed if he’s not considered an expert at cleaning, now. Levi makes him scrub floors and, hell, Eren’s even had to _wash the ceiling_ before. At home as well as at Levi’s so beloved restaurant. Eren doesn’t grow tired of it, though, he actually really likes cleaning. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

                “Do you think they’ll sell ice cream on the plane?” Eren asks.

                “And why the hell would they have that? It’s _fall_.”

                “Well, I want ice cream.”

                “It’s still morning, babe.”

                “So?”

                “They might have a Starbucks in the airport, if you want coffee.”

                “Mm. I guess that’s close enough.”

                “Don’t drop it like last time.”

                Eren laughs, nudging Levi’s shoulder. Last time he’d gone to get coffee, he’d made Levi order it for him only for Eren to end up dropping it as soon as they were outside - he’d been holding it by the lid, and the lid wasn’t on tight enough, so the cup full straight from his grasp.

                Eren _may or may not_ have nearly burst into tears over the loss of his twenty-four ounce iced coffee with shots of espresso and caramel, the heaping mound of whipped cream that Eren had been drooling over for a solid five minutes. Levi tried to offer his own coffee to Eren, but Levi’s coffee is shit - he drinks his _black._

                Needless to say, Levi ended up having to go back in and order a new drink for Eren.

                “I promise I won’t drop it,” Eren says, “As long as you promise that I get a window seat in the plane.”

                “You would get it whether you dropped your coffee or not.”

                “And why’s that?”

                “Because you’re persistent.”

                Eren laughs again, throwing his head back. He tightens his hold on Levi’s hand, and Levi does the same.

                Eren still has urges to count calories. Every now and then, he still has urges to cut himself, and every now and then, he finds a little pleasure in the hunger that pains him in the early mornings and after late night activities.

                But Eren never gives into those urges. He forces himself to look away from nutrition labels. He forces himself to go to sleep when the blade draws him near. He forces food down his throat every time that he feels hungry.

                Even when Levi’s not around, Eren forces himself to be powerful. Starvation is hell. Eren doesn’t want to have to go through hell ever again.

                Eren will _not_ let anorexia win. He’s stronger than it. He’s always been capable of being stronger.

                                                                                                             ~|~

                “I’ll buy your drinks,” Hanji says, shoving Levi down into a seat, “Just tell me what you want.”

                Eren sets himself down across from Levi, pulling out a chair and placing himself in it. He looks so _beautiful_ and _healthy_ \- his hair’s full, his fingers aren’t so blue anymore, and the only bruises on his skin are the ones left by his own clumsiness. His pants are impossibly tight, and Levi often finds it hard to look away from those _legs_ and all of his _curves_ and _holy shit, his thighs are irresistible._

                Eren’s upper body is covered in his jacket, but Levi can see that he’s wearing a loose tank top underneath. Neither of them are dressed very appropriately for the weather outside, considering that’s it’s autumn now, but Levi couldn’t give less of a shit. Eren’s hot enough to warm the both of them, body temperature-wise _and_ appearance-wise.

                Petra sits down beside Eren, a little too close for comfort. Levi watches as Eren scoots a bit to the side, and Petra, in turn, moves herself close to him again. Levi almost wants to tell her to back off, but it’s not like Petra would do anything. She probably really just wants to be near him. She does that - whenever she can, she likes to be as close to Eren as possible. It’s, admittedly, a little weird, but Levi doesn’t say anything. It’s her way of showing that she cares.

                Petra wasn’t supposed to be here, but for whatever reason, Hanji had decided to bring her along. Levi suspects it’s so that they can bring up the details of the wedding again in conversation, and Levi doesn’t even mind. He’s dying to know whether they decided to go with Levi’s brilliant idea of a marble cake or Eren’s shitty idea of red velvet.

                Petra puts her elbows on the table in front of her, smiling at Levi with her wide eyes. Eren does similar, except his hands are in his lap. Levi feels like he’s being stared at by two puppies. Two adorable puppies, one of which he’s getting married to and one of which likes to snuggle up next to his fiancé.

                Levi’s walked in on them having fallen asleep on each other before, surrounded by wedding brochures and other shit like that. Levi’s really going to have to get a cell phone sometime soon, because he’s not sure that he can go another day without having some pictures of his lover and his big green eyes and his curvaceous hips and voluptuous legs, his cute smiles and his soft hair and the rare scrunch of his nose. He’s around Eren nearly all day every day, but for those little moments when he _isn’t_ nearby, Levi would like at least a _little_ reminder of what he has to come home to.

                Petra looks away from Levi, going to turn her gaze to Hanji. Eren’s still watching Levi, though, and Levi can feel what _has_ to be Eren’s ankles wrap around Levi’s leg under the table. Eren has the cutest smile that he’s ever had on his face, but his smiles are _always_ cute - even the devilish ones that he gives when he’s teasing Levi, or the nervous ones that he gives before he’s about to say something that might warrant an odd response from Levi. They’re cute. _He’s_ cute.

                There’s really nothing about Eren that isn’t beautiful.

                “Are you alright?” Levi murmurs, shifting his leg so that Eren can reach more of him.

                “Yeah.”

                Levi believes in Eren’s words. One-hundred-percent. No doubt.

                “So?” Hanji says, crouching down onto her haunches and waiting while everyone starts to think over their orders, “I assume Levi wants his coffee plain.”

                “You would be right.”

                “Hot or cold?”

                “Hot.”

                Hanji nods. “Petra? Wait, wait, let me guess - you want your coffee iced, with a pump of caramel in it.”

                Petra gives Hanji a short applause. “Right again.”

                “And Eren,” Hanji says, “ _You_ want the sweetest thing on the menu.”

                “Mhm,” Eren nods, grinning. Petra’s smile matches that of Eren’s, happy over Hanji’s three-for-three victory.

                Hanji stands up, and she skips away, with a word of, “I’ll be back! Give me five minutes.”

                Levi taps on Eren’s leg below the table. Petra’s still eyeing Hanji, watching as she places the order at the front counter a good few feet away.

                Eren looks up at Levi again, his eyes so perfectly round and the brightest green that they’ve ever been. They look like the color of mint leaves, an indulgent tone that makes Eren just _that_ much more attractive.

                Levi places his chin in his palm, raising his eyebrows. Eren mirrors him, waiting expectantly for Levi to speak up. But Levi can’t. Eren’s so gorgeous, it’s _breathtaking._

                He’s gained weight, that much is obvious, especially when Levi manages to undress him. His ribs don’t show as much anymore, and his stomach’s becoming toned with muscles. His hips are full, his cheekbones are more subtle, and his collarbones aren’t bruised with the lack of nutrition. He’s undeniably _gorgeous._ His scars are fading, light pink marks stretching across otherwise tan skin. Eren’s still a little embarrassed over them, but Levi tries to make him as confident as he possibly can - as often as is possible, he’ll kiss Eren over the darkest of his scars and reassure him that he’s in a better place now.

                He’s also made numerous threats to kill anyone who looks at him the wrong way, which Eren’s only laughed at thus far. Levi wouldn’t hesitate to keep up his end of the deal, though. He’s still waiting for another opportunity to knock Horsefuck in the head, preferably with his foot this time. In the nose. Until he’s bleeding. Until his face is broken.

                Levi’s not too sure what ever happened to those assholes, but Eren hasn’t brought them up in so long, it’s pointless to think about now. Levi suspects that Eren himself has either forgotten about them, or chooses not to think about them. Either option is fine with Levi, because either way, Eren looks joyful now. _Especially_ now, as they’re about to go on a week-long vacation to France. Their honeymoon is just going to be them in their house, but Levi’s fine with that, because a few days cuddled up next to Eren in bed is just as good, if not better, than having Eren fret over which pair of pants he should wear out to visit the Eiffel Tower. But, then again, Levi wouldn’t mind having Eren model pants for him. He has such long, slender legs, his weight is so evenly distributed about his body, doing wonders for his lower half.

                Levi’s _Paper Thin Beauty_ isn’t so thin anymore.

                And Levi couldn’t be happier.

                “Say, Eren?”

                “Huh?”

                “Let’s play a game.”

                “The usual?”

                Levi nods, sitting up a little straighter. Eren mimics him, using one hand to pull back several strands of hair from his forehead. He looks so genuinely _excited,_ Levi feels a surge of his own joy rise in his body, lusting to see Eren smile a little wider and silently pleading that Eren will _stay_ this joyful for the rest of his life. He deserves it - after all that he’s been through, Eren deserves chocolates and roses and necklaces and every beautiful thing known to man. Nothing, of course, will ever be able to live up to Levi’s _Not So_ Paper Thin Beauty, in terms of appearance, but if it makes Eren happy, then Levi will buy him as much stuff as he can.

                “Who first, me or you?” Eren asks, keeping his voice low - Petra can probably hear them, if she cares to listen, but she looks really intent on watching Hanji place their order, lost in her own thoughts.

                “Mm. I’ll go first.”

                “Alright,” Eren gives a slight nod, his eyelashes fluttering as he stares Levi right in the eyes. Fuck, why are his eyes so mesmerizing? Even through their hard times, Eren’s eyes never fail to enthrall Levi.

                “Question one. How’s your day been?”

                “Not bad. I mean, it’s kind of just started, but I like it,” Eren looks away from Levi, his feet still rubbing up and down Levi’s leg under the table. He never goes too high, the toes of his shoes shifting the fabric of Levi’s pants around until it’s awkwardly twisted on his calf. “I’m nervous.”

                “Why?”

                “I’ve never been to a different country before,” Eren sighs.

                “You’ll do fine. If anyone tries to hurt you, I’ll fuck them up.”

                “Promise?”

                “I promise.”

                “Okay. Question two, then,” Eren says, “How has _your_ day been?”

                “You’re never going to be original, are you?”

                “It’s _my_ turn, so I get to pick what question I want to ask,” Eren pouts.

                “Fair enough. My day’s been fine.”

                “Really?”

                “Mhm.”

                Eren’s feet stop moving below the table, and he lifts his hands, reaching across the table to grip Levi’s collar. Levi’s pulled into a quick kiss, Eren’s warm lips pressing tightly to Levi’s cooler ones. Eren’s fingers move away from Levi’s shirt to grasp his cheeks, forcing him in place as Eren smooches him near to death - Levi feels like he _might_ die, due to Eren being so suffocatingly close and so constantly beautiful. He’d also eventually die due to a lack of oxygen, but Levi’s certain that Eren’s grace would give him a heart attack long before he chokes.

                Eren releases Levi, sitting back in his seat. Levi glances over to Hanji, and sees that she’s finally collecting their drinks, her arms completely full.

                “Levi?” Eren murmurs, and Levi just _barely_ hears him.

                “Yes?”

                “Tu es beau.”

                Levi smirks, shaking his head. “You’re learning, aren’t you?”

                “You act like that’s weird.”

                “Hm,” Levi grunts, narrowing his eyes teasingly.

                “ _Levi._ ”  

                “I’m kidding, Eren.”

                “Fuck you.”

                “I still love you.”

                “And I love you, too, Levi.”

                Levi could never doubt, for even a second, that Eren loves him. It’s in his eyes, it’s in the way that he kisses him, it’s in the subtle touches that Eren leaves on his legs.

                Eren loves Levi, and Levi loves him just as much.

                Eren’s had a hard time. Levi, too, in having to watch the one he loves suffer so badly - but they’re better now. They’re on their way toward recovery.

                Levi thinks that Eren will be fine. Eren talks to him, every single time that he’s upset, and Levi does everything in his power to switch Eren’s mood around. Having Eren breakdown right in front of his eyes _once_ is enough for his entire lifetime - it depresses him, every time memories of Eren trying give up on life resurface in his mind.

                But Levi can help him. He knows what to do, now. He knows when Eren just needs someone to listen to him. He knows places to take Eren for extra help, if he ever desires it. He knows the words that make Eren smile.

                As long as Eren’s giving off genuine, happy grins, Levi’s fine.

                Hanji comes back to the table, passing out the drinks to their owners. Petra dives right into hers, sucking it to the halfway point before even a minute has passed. Eren’s slower, as he savors his drink, but Levi hasn’t even _started_ on his. In all truthfulness, he’s not a huge fan of coffee. But he’s not about to say that out loud and ruin the atmosphere.

                “You know, Eren,” Levi murmurs, just as Hanji takes the seat next to him, “We should probably be going, soon. Plane takes off soon.”

                “Will they let us bring our drinks on it?”

                “If they don’t,” Petra offers with a giggle, “I’ll take them.”

                Levi gives her a glare. Which only brings more laughter out of her.

                “Come on, Eren,” Levi sighs, standing, “We can walk slowly and give you enough time to drink your coffee before we leave, if you want.”

                “Fine,” Eren gives in, “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAHH I DIDN'T WANT TO END THIS FIC ;; But still.. I hope you guys liked it? I really had fun writing this, and all of the comments that I get make me so happy <3 <3 I can't believe that this is already over omfg... I meant to post this chapter so long ago but I forgot, whoopsies.. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Title is based on this incredibly lovely song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AKmOvKzlkI


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